


Driving Mr. Katsuki

by CullinanKatsudon



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxious Katsuki Yuuri, Bottom Victor Nikiforov, Businessman Victor Nikiforov, Dancer Katsuki Yuuri, Drunk Katsuki Yuuri, Drunk Victor Nikiforov, Humor, M/M, Mistaken Identity, New York City, Pole Dancing, Probably Bottom Victor TBH but we'll have to wait and see how it rolls, Service Sub Victor, Top Katsuki Yuuri, Victor doesn't skate, Yuri skates, adventures in Uber, at this point I'm writing to see what happens too so ganbatteimasu, borrowed ice rinks, competitive Katuski Yuuri, dance battle, it keeps getting longer than I think it's going to be, shopping with lesbians, there will be kissing, they're gonna bang
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2018-11-12 09:22:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 40,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11158953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CullinanKatsudon/pseuds/CullinanKatsudon
Summary: Yuuri Katsuki gets into Victor Nikiforov's car, mistaking it for his Uber ride...and Victor doesn't correct him.And then there's a job interview, and mistaken identity, and some pole dancing, and ice skating lessons, and a Very Smitten Nikiforov, and a Nervous But Determined Katsuki, and what was supposed to be a quick, cute fic has turned into a novel, and that's okay.





	1. Chapter 1

Yuuri had no idea it was going to be this difficult to get a cab.

He’d looked around for a taxi stand like there had been at the airport, but he couldn’t see one anywhere. Only mobs of people speaking English far too fast, none of them looking as if they were interested in entertaining questions from an overtired Japanese business traveller who barely spoke their language. The sidewalks were jammed with people, all of them pushing against Yuuri, jostling him and casting him glares as he stood huddled with his luggage, trying to decide what to do.

He should have gone straight to his hotel, but he’d needed to exchange his currency, and the station at the airport had been closed. He’d asked his cab driver to take him to a bank in Manhattan, since it seemed that would be a safe neighborhood, and now here he was. Flush with cash, unable to find a cab, no idea how to get to his hotel.

When his anxiety threatened to send him to the pavement and curl him into a ball, he spied the sign for a coffee house with free WiFi and hurried over, where his hands trembled as he dialed up Phichit’s number on Skype and waited for his friend to pick up. He wanted to use video chat, but he worried how people would look at him if he did that in a coffee shop, so he stuck to audio only.

“Yuuri?” Phichit yawned, sounding sleep-groggy. “Is everything all right? Did you make it to New York?”

Yuuri curled his fingers around the phone and hunched over it. “So sorry to wake you. I…I’m having trouble.”

“Ah. It’s okay. I should be getting up anyway.” Phichit was immediately more awake. “I told you to call me anytime, right? First of all, where are you?”

“New York City. Manhattan. A coffee shop.”

“So you made it. Good. Your flight was all right?”

It had been long. So incredibly long. “Yes. It was good. No problems.”

“And you got into the city on your own—well done! So you’re not having trouble with your English?”

Yuuri hesitated, thinking back to his nearly disastrous encounter with the cab driver. “I think my English could be better. They have a hard time understanding me.”

“Remember not to be too quiet. You tend to get quiet when you’re nervous, and that makes it difficult to understand you.”

Yuuri rubbed his forehead. He felt calmer, talking to Phichit, but panic still loomed. “I can’t get to my hotel. I stopped to change currency at a bank, but it’s too busy here and there are no cabs. I don’t know how to get one. There are no taxi stands.”

“Breathe, Yuuri. Deep breaths.”

Shutting his eyes, Yuuri did as instructed. His cheeks flushed with his embarrassment at needing Phichit to calm him so early on his journey. He worried it was a bad sign. “Maybe I shouldn’t do this. Maybe I should have the taxi take me to the airport and I should go back to Japan.”

“You should go to your hotel, rest, and prepare for your interview next week,” Phichit countered with maddening patience. “You’ve come all this way, and everyone worked so hard to help get you this opportunity.”

Yuuri knew Phichit was right, but the knowledge didn’t make the task ahead of him any easier. He wasn’t sure why he’d come here any longer, what the opportunity was he sought. A job, yes. A career, now that skating was over. He’d tried coaching, and it hadn’t suited him. Neither had working with his father’s business back home—he was competent enough in the hotel industry, had trained for it in college, but too many people asked about his skating, and it brought up bad memories. Staying at home with his mother was far worse—the depression had nearly drowned him there, in the quiet. And so everyone who loved him had devised this: an interview in a company abroad, one friendly with the Katsuki empire. Phichit and Seung-gil Lee had arranged everything—with help from their families. Yuuri was fortunate to have such connections and such devoted friends and loved ones around him.

Yet none of them were here with him now in this crowded coffee shop to explain how to get a taxi to his hotel. Only Phichit, awake in the middle of the night on Skype.

Yuuri pushed down all the voices that wanted to point out how pointless this was and what a miserable failure he had become and did what Minako had trained him to do: focus on what he could do now, right in front of him. What was the task at hand? The trouble before him? The taxi. Getting to his hotel. Very well. He would ask Phichit how to solve this problem.

“I need to find how to get a taxi.” He worked to keep his voice level, no emotion leaking in to make it wobble. “It isn’t the same as in Tokyo.” Yuuri wasn’t much good at getting a taxi in Tokyo, but he could do it if he had to. Go to the taxi stand and wait your turn. He hated how busy the streets were, but he endured it. “There are no taxi stands.”

“Really? How odd. But I’ve never been to New York. Hmm. You could try calling the company, maybe?”

Yuuri’s stomach turned over at the thought. “They won’t understand my English. No one understand my English. It’ll be worse on the phone, from a crowded place, when I’m tired and nervous.” And he was getting more nervous by the moment.

“All right, it’s all right. Don’t panic. We’ll figure this out.” He could hear Phichit clicking in the background, typing on his keyboard. “Are you still using your Japanese phone? Have you changed the SIM card like I told you?”

Yuuri remembered Phichit’s lecture on how to change his SIM card to make his phone work in the US, even had the print out for it, but he was terrified to do so and break his one link with home. “I don’t want to do it. I want to keep my phone the way it is. Can I pay the roaming charges?”

“The roaming charges are insane. Your father didn’t approve setting your phone up for an international plan, either, so I highly advise you to stick to Skype on WiFi. But this is a problem, if you won’t switch the SIM, because all the solutions I want to give you require internet. But—oh, I know! Are you downtown? In Manhattan?”

“Yes.” Yuuri was now sure that had been a mistake. But he honestly hadn’t known where else to go. Would there have been a bank near his hotel?

“Perfect. Because there are shops that sell burner phones all around you, and you can get a burner smart phone. It won’t be great, but it’ll be enough to let you use Uber.”

Yuuri raised his eyebrows. He’d never used Uber. He knew they had it in Tokyo now, but hardly anyone used it, because the trains and cabs were so efficient. “Is it safe?”

“Millions of people use it, so I think you can take that as endorsement enough to get to your hotel when you can’t get a taxi. Okay: I want you to tell me where you are, exactly, and then I’m going to find you a store, you’re going to get the phone, come back to this shop’s WiFi, and we’ll set up a video chat so I can walk you through exactly how to set up the app. I’ll even help you call the car—I can do everything but go to the street with you to wait for it. Okay?”

Yuuri breathed a ragged sigh of relief. “Okay.”

Phichit was as good as his word, as always. Yuuri’s heart beat too fast as he picked up his suitcase and shuffled through the crowds to get to the store Phichit directed him to. It was not what Yuuri expected—he’d thought it would be a clean, proper electronics store, but it was a crowded, jumbled place that reminded him more of a 100 yen shop than a place to purchase a phone. But after repeating himself a few times and being more deliberate with his English, he was able to pick up the item he’d been sent there to procure and head back to the coffee shop, its WiFi, and his best friend.

He didn’t care to think about the way the shop clerk had looked at him, as if he were stupid. Phichit had warned him that Americans sometimes thought Asians, especially Asian men, where simple-minded, which made no sense to Yuuri at all until he had stood there attempting to explain what he wanted to purchase and the man had regarded him as if he were an idiot child. It angered Yuuri that politeness dictated he let the slight pass—that common sense did too, because what in the world was he to do about it all alone, phoning his friend thousands of miles away just to help get a taxi. Perhaps he was an idiot after all.

He was an idiot with a master’s degree, a drawer full of skating medals, and one of the heirs to an international hotel conglomerate, however. Somehow he was fairly certain the store clerk was none of these things. He knew English, though, and that was the advantage here.

At the coffee shop, Yuuri purchased a green tea, which the barista scorched, and propped his phone against the napkin holder at his table so Phichit could better guide him through the phone’s setup via video. It went fairly well, overall, except it was not one where Yuuri could set the language in Japanese, unfortunately, which meant every screen was a barrage of too much English, and sometimes the phone would flicker as he tried to navigate the Uber app. 

“It’s because it’s a burner phone,” Phichit explained. “When I said it was a smart phone, I was being generous. But all you need it to do is call your ride to the curb. Then it can flicker and flutter all it wants, because you’ll be at your hotel, where you’ll have WiFi again.”

Yuuri would never be so glad to see a hotel in his life, even if it wasn’t one of his family’s. He was unsettled by that, but they only had one property in New York City, and it was apparently booked because of some festival. “So now that I have entered my credit card information, I simply push these buttons and a car will come?”

“Yes—it should tell you the driver’s name and have a photo and everything.”

Phichit did stay on the line until Yuuri had called for his Uber ride—the phone wouldn’t let him see the driver’s name and photo like Phichit had said it would, the phone kept glitching if he tried, so he stopped trying—and at first Yuuri could see the driver inching closer on a map. It was rather exciting.

Then just as the car was meant to have been coming around the corner, the app froze.

Phichit wouldn’t let Yuuri panic. “Don’t worry about it. Reboot the app, or the phone, or whatever you need to do, and close me out while you go wait for the car. It’s literally coming to you. Go stand outside and wait for your Uber ride. You can do this, Yuuri. I believe in you! Do your best!”

With those words of encouragement ringing in his ears and his heart hammering in his throat, Yuuri turned off his Japanese phone, grabbed his suitcase, and left the coffee shop. He tried to get the burner phone to load the Uber app, but now the whole phone had seized up, and he worried if he messed with it too much he’d miss his ride. So he went to the street, navigated the crowd as best he could as he fought his way to the curb, and waited.

And waited.

The traffic on the street wasn’t moving, at all. Cars honked, and several cab drivers rolled down their windows and _shouted_ , which seemed ridiculous to Yuuri, because how this would make the congestion ease up he had no idea, but they seemed convinced it would change things. A few of the cabs had their lights on, indicating they were for hire, and one driver looked at him as if to indicate Yuuri could get a ride, but Yuuri felt obligated to wait for this Uber car now, since he had called it.

Would it have a sign in the window? He should have asked Phichit this.

He began to get nervous again.

Minako’s voice settled over his brain like a blanket, a comfortable echo drowning out the part of him that wanted to say he was an idiot, a fool who never should have thought he could do this. “ _Think it through, Yuuri. How can you identify your ride? Other people do it all the time. Surely there’s a logical means to do so._ ”

Taking deep breaths, Yuuri did his best to search for a clue. Phichit had said the car would pull up to the curb. Except there wasn’t any room at the curb—it was full of parked cars. So the car would stop in the street in front of the cars. The problem was, that was a lane of traffic, and so many cars were technically stopping there. What Yuuri needed was a way to identify the actual car.

He thought back to the app Phichit had led him through. _Uber Black_ , Phichit had said, were the nicer cars, and he’d told Yuuri to use that service. Did that mean the cars themselves were black? That would make a kind of sense. It was worth trying. Since most of the cars coming on the street were cabs and delivery cars and vans, decidedly _not_ nicer black cars, Yuuri could see if something pulled up that matched that description.

A jackhammer began rumbling from a construction area across the street—it startled Yuuri, made his teeth rattle and his nerves fray that much faster. The machine kept going too, pausing only for brief moments before digging in again, until Yuuri was ready to pull out all his hair, he was so jarred by the noise on top of everything else. Which was why, when the sleek black car appeared and seemed to not only stop in traffic but deliberately slow, looking as if it were trying to find a place to park, the driver, leaning over the seat to peer around curiously, Yuuri didn’t hesitate. He barreled through the space in the parked cars, murmuring apologies as his suitcase cut people off. He was not letting this ride get away from him.

He rapped politely but firmly on the window of the car, and when the driver couldn’t hear him over the damn construction, Yuuri didn’t allow himself to be self-conscious. He simply repeated himself as best he could. 

Which wasn’t very good at this point, he had to admit. He was shaking. He had to look shamefully pathetic. And so he decided to accept his lot, letting go of his suitcase so he could press his hands together before his face and make a formal bow. “ _Please_.”

The driver—young, only a little older than Yuuri—blinked at him, his pale blue eyes wide beneath a frame of shiny silver hair. “All-all right,” he said at last, sounding mystified.

Yuuri nearly wept in relief. “Thank you. Thank you very much.” He opened the back door of the car—it truly was a nice vehicle—and climbed inside, dragging his suitcase along with him.

 _He is much nicer than the cab driver,_ Yuuri thought as he climbed over the suitcase to pull the door closed, and as he stole a glance at his driver in the rearview mirror, he couldn’t help but add, _and he’s much more handsome too._

* * *

 

There was a strange man in the back of Victor’s car. And he had no idea what to do about it.

All he’d wanted was a latte, but of course there were no parking spots—there were none on the entire island of Manhattan, he was convinced of it—and he’d thought, what if I just put my hazards on and ran in, would that be the end of the world. He’d been about to admit that yes, it would probably be a terrible idea, one that would involve Christophe getting him out of yet another jam, so he’d been about to abandon the plan and simply head back to his condo when the stranger had knocked on his window and said, “Are you my lover?” Then had bowed and said please and looked so achingly lost and sad that Victor had said, “All right,” whatever that had meant—he’d just hoped it would make the man smile, then leave—except the man had climbed into his back seat. With a suitcase.

Victor had no idea what to do. Chris was going to have his head. Or laugh at him. Or maybe both?

What was he supposed to do with this stranger in his back seat? Yes, the man was handsome and he’d had a moment’s idiotic romantic thought about actually being the man’s lover because wasn’t that a pretty setup, but he was cured of such ideas now!

The man was talking, his voice trembling as he spoke in halting, heavily accented English. “I go to hotel? Have address.” He patted his suit coat in the universal language of someone searching for the piece of paper they couldn’t remember where they’d placed.

He wanted to go to a hotel? Hot panic flared, but it died quickly as Victor watched the man fumble through his pockets. He didn’t look like someone expecting a hookup, come to think of it. He looked like…someone in a cab.

That accent. And the noise outside…

_Are you my lover…._

_Are you my…Uber…_

Victor winced and blushed at his own ridiculousness. No. Chris would _never, ever_ hear of this. 

In the backseat came a great sigh of relief—and some muttering in a foreign language. “I find paper,” he said in English, and passed it to Victor with a too-bright, travel weary smile of someone trying hard to be polite when all they wanted to do was scream.

Someone being _very_ polite. Victor swore he’d recognized the language, and that combined with so much else…He turned in his seat and took a shot in the dark. “Pardon me, but do you speak Japanese?”

The man looked at him as if he _did_ want to be Victor’s lover now, he was so grateful. “ _Yes._ Yes—I _am_ Japanese—” and then he let loose a torrent in the language so fast Victor laughed and held up his hand.

“ _Slower,_ please. I know quite a bit of the language, but I’m rusty, and that jackhammer is loud.”

The man smiled, still looking relieved like no one Victor had ever seen. “Yes, I can go more slowly. I’m just so glad—”

The car behind them slammed on their horn and the driver leaned out the window to shout some severely creative curses at them. Victor cast an apologetic glance at the stranger in his car and nodded at the road. “Do you mind if I start driving?”

“Please. Thank you so much.” The man presented the slip of paper again. “This is the address of my hotel. Do you know it?”

Victor glanced at the paper and shook his head. “Never heard of it. Must be small. I’ll plug it into my Google maps at the next stoplight. In this traffic we may be some time, though.” And Victor really wasn’t going to get a latte. “May I have your name? Mine’s Victor, by the way.”

“I’m Katsuki Yuuri.” He made a small bow, as best he could in the back seat. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Victor-san. Thank you for taking care of me.”

Victor waved a hand. “No need for the honorific. Not in America. But I’m happy to use one for you, Katsuki-san, if you prefer.”

The man shook his head. “No. If I’m going to live in America, I’ll need to get used to it. Call me Yuuri, please, Victor.”

Victor smiled to himself.  This wasn’t so bad. Maybe he _should_ be an Uber driver. “Very well, Yuuri. What brings you to New York?”

“I’m here for an interview. My family arranged for me to potentially take a job with a company friendly with ours, and I’m here to meet in person with their representatives to see if I will be a good fit.”

“I see. Have you been in New York long?”

“No. I only just arrived. I’m trying to get to my hotel. I need to take a few days to recover and acclimate to New York’s time zone before my interview, and prepare myself for their questions. But I had trouble getting money exchanged, and now I am in Manhattan with no taxi and no way to get to my accommodation.”

Victor was taken aback. “No one came to meet you at the airport?”

Yuuri blinked at him in the rearview mirror. “Of course not. I’m only interviewing. They’re not sure they want to hire me, you see. I think having me navigate my way to the interview is part of my test.” His lips flattened into a line. “I’m not passing it very well.”

“It’s a terrible weekend to ask you to find your way around the city. There are at least three different large events going on at once—I’m amazed you found a room at a hotel at all. The streets are full of tourists, worse than usual, and the locals are cranky. They really should have sent someone to meet you.”

“Well, I was fortunate to have you as my driver.” Yuuri was relaxing now, easing into his seat. “How is it you know Japanese? I didn’t think most Americans did.”

Victor laughed. “Well, for one, I’m not American. I’m Russian.”

“Ah, I thought I heard an accent, but I didn’t want to assume. Your Japanese is quite good.”

“Thank you, but I know it’s terrible every time I attempt to do business. I have a number of interactions with Japanese businesses in my”—he remembered he was supposed to be an Uber driver—“day job, and I always feel I’m getting the bad end of the bargain.”

“You should have an interpreter to help you.”

“Well, yes, but as you say, most Americans don’t know Japanese, and as my father likes to point out, the whole reason he let me learn the language was so I could use it. It’s been several years since we’ve dealt with our Japanese contacts, though. I wouldn’t mind if that changed, but those decisions aren’t up to me. What about you, though? What sort of work do you hope to do?”

The streetlights moved across Yuuri’s face, letting Victor see the blush. “I…I don’t know, to be honest. It’s a complicated situation. Mostly I need the work, and so here I am, hoping to get it.”

Victor wondered if he dared get the man’s card. Christophe would lose his mind if he said he wanted to hire someone he’d accidentally picked up off the street, but maybe if he invented an excuse to see him again, he could find out more, make the reasoning more solid. 

The memory of Yuuri’s features the streetlights whispered he could do other things when he saw him again as well. Or maybe confess he wasn’t an Uber driver and come into the hotel lobby and get drinks with him now. Except he should let the poor jet-lagged man sleep.

_How about he sleeps beside you, on your pillow?_

Victor shook the image off before he could be ridiculous again.

Traffic had come to a complete stop once more, so he put the directions to Yuuri’s hotel into his map application and watched it chart a course. Normally it should be little more than a ten minute drive. At the moment Google was predicting half an hour.

He truly, truly wished he could have gotten that latte.

Yuuri frowned at the map on Victor’s phone, moving his lips as he translated. “Does it say…half an hour?”

“I’m afraid so.” Victor turned, saw the red streaks in Yuuri’s weary, bloodshot eyes this close up, and his heart broke. “Feel free to nap in the back seat if you need to. I’ll wake you when we get there, I promise.”

But Yuuri kept frowning, this time at Victor. “The phone app said it paid you a flat fee. Will it be enough with this delay? Should I pay you more?” He reached for his wallet. “My phone is a burner and it froze, but I was able to get to the bank, and I have American dollars now—”

“No, no—seriously, it’s fine. Please, keep your money.” This would be a good time to come clean, Victor knew and he almost did, but then he got a good look at the man’s face and thought, _no, he’s going to snap if you put one more twist on his evening. Tell him later, over that drink. Let him get checked in first. Don’t do it while he’s trapped in your car._ He had to get that wallet put away, though, so he spun a bit more fiction. “I don’t do this for the money. It’s fine. I promise.”

Yuuri looked dubious. “Why are you a driver then, if not for money?”

 _Why indeed?_ “It’s a bit of a lark, I suppose. A way to…meet new people.”

Yuuri finally put his wallet away, but now he was looking at Victor the way Chris looked at him. “That seems dangerous to me.”

Victor thought of the stranger pounding on his car window a little while ago, and how that had turned out. “I think it can be, but it can also be quite rewarding.”

Yuuri didn’t seem convinced. “I don’t like meeting new people. I don’t like large groups of them, either.”

Victor couldn’t hide a smile. “You’re definitely in the wrong city, then.”

“Yes, and Tokyo was worse. But I was listless on our estate back home, and so I have to become comfortable in the world, among strangers.”

“I don’t mind strangers. I like meeting new people. But it’s _always_ new people, and I can never stay with the people I like. I have a dog, but he can’t travel with me, and he’s also not a person.”

“You have a dog?” Yuuri’s voice was wistful. “What kind?”

“A poodle.”

Yuuri leaned forward between the seats. “Really? I did too! A toy poodle. He passed away recently, and I miss him so much.” He smiled. “His name was similar to yours, actually. Vicchan.”

Victor grinned. “My Makkachin isn’t toy-sized, that’s for certain. But he is getting older. I keep making excuses to spend time with him, because I know he won’t live forever.” His heart beat faster as he added, “Perhaps you can meet him sometime.”

“I would love to.” A pause, and Yuuri’s voice was a little shy as he continued. “You would be willing to exchange information with me?”

“Of course. I’d be happy to meet you for coffee, or even dinner while you’re here. You can let me practice my Japanese, and I can make sure someone is helping you since your potential future employer clearly isn’t planning to do so.”

Oh, but Yuuri was _handsome_ when he blushed. “That would be very kind of you. Thank you. I’d be happy to give you my card when we arrive at the hotel.”

“I will do the same.” Victor looked out at the stalled traffic and sighed. “If we ever manage to arrive, that is.”

“I _am_ sorry,” Yuuri said, looking as if he wanted to reach for his wallet again.

“I’m not,” Victor said quickly, “only that it’s boring to be stuck in traffic. And I feel badly for you, when I know you’re so tired.”

Yuuri shook his head. “I’m all right. It’s such a relief, to be able to speak with you. I’m sorry for speaking too quickly before. It was such a relief. I’ve traveled the world my whole life, but I’ve never felt so helpless as I have today. Everyone seemed so eager to go out of their way to make me feel small and stupid.”

“Some of that is New York—it wasn’t aimed at you, it was aimed at the world. But there are also New Yorkers who will help you. Today is a bad day in Manhattan, though, with so many tourists. You said you’ve traveled your whole life, though? Not for business, I’m assuming? Was this vacations with your family?”

“No—I was a figure skater.”

Victor turned and looked at Yuuri over his shoulder. “You were a what?”

Yuuri smiled at him, a knowing smile that did funny things to Victor’s insides. “A figure skater.”

Victor was having a hard time keeping his mouth closed. “As in…Olympic figure skater, figure skater?”

“I competed in the Olympic games, yes.” Yuuri’s lips pursed. “Two bronze.”

 _Two bronze?_ “That’s amazing! Why are you making that face? Two bronze medals is incredible.”

“I nearly had silver both times.”

So Katsuki Yuuri was competitive. Good to know. “So, wow, you really did travel all over the world, didn’t you?”

“For the Olympic and other competitions, yes. But I didn’t see much of the world. Only hotels and training facilities, and arenas. There were always cars to take me from the hotel to the competition, and to the airport. I didn’t even interact with my fellow competitors much. I didn’t want to.” He sighed. “Then seven years ago I was injured. The doctors said if I kept competing I wouldn’t be able to walk if I injured myself again, and so my career was done. I tried to coach, but I’m no good with people. I finished college and got my masters degree and tried to work in the family business, but it was too difficult, because everyone knew me as a skater, and it brought back too many unhappy memories.”

Apparently he was a famous skater. Victor couldn’t wait to get somewhere he could Google the man. “So you’re here in the States to make new memories?”

“Something like that, I suppose.” Yuuri didn’t sound convinced.

Victor tried to imagine the nervous, uptight man in the suit in his backseat ice skating. It was unfathomable. “I did some ice skating when I was younger, back in Russia. I thought I was pretty good, because I could spin and sometimes jump. But I think you would put me to shame.”

Oh, but he liked that smile. Victor wanted to see this smile from Yuuri, this reluctant, slightly embarrassed, slightly naughty smile again. “Maybe we’ll have to have a competition and see. I am injured after all. You might be better than I am now, a poor, retired athlete.”

“Katsuki-san, I can hear the bait in your tone from here. I am no fool, I was not born yesterday.”

Yuuri’s voice was soft. “I thought you agreed to call me Yuuri.”

Victor’s heart fluttered, and he caught Yuuri’s gaze in the mirror. “You’re right, Yuuri. I did.”

Their flirting was easy after that, and casual, but Victor’s blood hummed as he felt the potential between the two of them unroll. He could see everything now. He would establish Yuuri in his hotel. He would ensure Yuuri had his number, but he would make a date with him for the next day and meet him at the hotel as well. He’d already decided he’d park the car and make sure Yuuri could get checked in before he left him—he’d see the man into his pajamas if that’s what it took to see him calm. Pajamas and a cup of tea, and an appointment to see Victor in the morning.

If he hadn’t promised Chris, he’d wheedle his way into seeing the man now. Jet lag or not. Because there was an invitation, subtle as it was but present all the same, that had Victor purring and made him want to abandon every plan he had for the evening, the weekend, the rest of the month.

He would be good, though. This time, he wouldn’t leap in head first. He was almost excited just thinking about how patient and good he was going to be.

Then he stopped daydreaming and took notice of the neighborhood he was being navigated into. 

“Is this…okay?” Yuuri sounded uneasy. 

Victor felt the same way. He hit the locks on the doors and peered around, trying to imagine what hotel was buried back here. “What was the name of the hotel again?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know. I only have the address.”

“According to the directions, it should be on the next block. But I don’t like the look of anything on this block, I have to be honest.”

Yuuri seemed to be of the same opinion, but he was also clinging, desperately, to hope. “My father’s secretary made the reservation. It should be fine.”

“We must have the address wrong, then, because I’m here to tell you, nothing in this block is going to be fine.” He passed his phone to Yuuri. “Here, check the address against the one on your paper. Did I type it in correctly?”

Yuuri’s voice was weary and small. “Yes. It’s the correct address.”

Victor had a terrible, terrible feeling about this, but he didn’t know what else to do but keep driving. They were almost at the red dot now, and sure enough, there was a hotel—as soon as Victor saw the name, he would bet a month’s salary he knew what had happened. The Empire on this street was a dive, a seedy place that he doubted had a web presence but had likely shown up in an online search—made more fun by being in a second language—but Yuuri’s father’s secretary had thought she was booking at the upscale version in Manhattan. No doubt the rooms there had been gone for months. It would have been an easy mistake to make, though.

And now here was Yuuri, tired, alone, and stuck…here.

“This…this can’t be my hotel,” Yuuri whispered as Victor pulled to the curb—a parking spot in the city at last—and put the car in park.

Victor was about to open his mouth to explain what he thought had happened when a car backfiring startled them both. Then the car backfired again, people started screaming, and Victor realized it wasn’t a car at all, it was guns. People were fucking shooting at each other.

 _Enough._ Victor wasn’t asking permission anymore. He was simply getting them out of this situation.

“Get down,” he shouted to Yuuri, put the car gear and sped into the street.


	2. Chapter 2

Flattening himself over his suitcase, Yuuri shut his eyes tight as his heart pounded in his ears. He heard the gunshots and the screams in the distance, but mostly he heard the squealing of the car tires and Victor’s swearing in Russian as he whipped the car through the traffic at an alarming rate.

Yuuri assumed it was swearing. He didn’t know Russian at all, but it certainly sounded like cursing.

“Are you all right?” Victor’s Japanese had a thick accent now, and Yuuri could hear the tension in his voice. “Yuuri? Are you okay?”

Yuuri sat up tentatively, glancing out the back window expecting to see a scene out of a violent movie. All he saw was a quiet street scene in a slightly run-down neighborhood. He relaxed somewhat. “I’m fine. Are you, Victor?”

“Yes. I’m okay.” He sighed and ran a shaking hand through his hair. “I don’t know what happened. This neighborhood isn’t great, but it isn’t _that_ bad. New York isn’t like the movies, not most of the time. He looked over his shoulder at Yuuri. “But I don’t think you should stay in that hotel.”

Tension ate at Yuuri’s belly and tightened his fists impotently against his legs. He knew Victor was right, but he had nowhere else to go. He didn’t know how to find another hotel. He didn’t want to call Phichit again. He wanted…to go home. 

He shut his eyes, shame burning his cheeks as he prepared to ask Victor to take him to the airport.

“Yuuri?”

He opened his eyes at Victor’s soft entreaty, blinking as he caught his gaze in the rearview mirror. “Yes?”

Victor’s eyes were so blue, and so kind. And he was truly so, so handsome, especially when he smiled. “Yuuri, would you please allow me to take you somewhere and buy you a drink?”

Now Yuuri’s blush was for quite a different reason. “But you’re working.”

“I’m free now, as it happens. For a bit. I have an engagement later this evening, but for a few hours, I have time, and I would like to spend those hours with you. Having a drink. Then we can sort out where you should go. I have some ideas, but let’s have a drink first. I think we could both use one, don’t you?”

Yuuri would love nothing more than to have a drink—several of them—and put this endless day behind him. But he couldn’t help hesitating, feeling as if he were imposing on Victor.

Victor raised his eyebrows. “I promise to show you as many pictures and videos of Makkachin as you can stand. My phone is full of them. More than you can look at in the time I have until my appointment. If that sways you at all.”

Something in Yuuri’s heart pinched, bloomed, and burst, flooding him with warmth and yearning…and it wasn’t for photos of this man’s dog. “I’ll go with you. But you have to let me buy the drinks.”

Victor’s smile tipped up at the corners, his mouth forming a charming heart shape. “Perfect. Then let me drive you to your next destination, Yuuri.”

His next destination turned out to be a bar in a much nicer neighborhood where Victor parked the car in a private garage before leading Yuuri to the club’s tucked away private entrance. Very few people were inside at all, and the atmosphere had a hushed tone about it. The maî·tre d knew Victor on sight and spoke pleasantly—and too fast—to him in English, but when Victor introduced Yuuri as his friend who had recently come from Japan and had limited English, the host spoke more slowly and deliberately, which Yuuri greatly appreciated. 

“Would you to gentlemen like to sit at the bar, or take a table?” the maî·tre d asked.

Victor looked to Yuuri. “Do you have a preference?”

Yuuri glanced around the seating area, then spoke to Victor in Japanese. “Is there somewhere with fewer people?”

Casting Yuuri a wink, Victor turned to the host. “Is the private booth in use, do you know?”

It turned out the booth was not in use, and soon Yuuri and Victor were secluded in a large circular space designed to seat twenty people, but it was of course only the two of them, gathered to one side. Yuuri tried to resist the urge to curl into the soft leather and sleep as Victor placed an order of appetizers and alcohol.

“What would you like, Yuuri?”

Yuuri scanned the menu, but there was just so much English. He rubbed his temple. “Do they have sake?”

“Hmm. Yes, but I don’t think you’ll care for it. Their vodka is good, though.”

Yuuri shut his eyes and rubbed his temple harder. “Vodka, then.”

“And food? You should eat something, I think.”

Yuuri wasn’t hungry. Or rather, he was, but he was too nervous and flustered to attempt to understand what the food was before him. “I can’t read any more English today.”

“Poor Yuuri.” Victor’s hand rested on Yuuri’s shoulder, kneading gently. The touch shocked Yuuri, but it felt wonderful all the same. “Shall I order for you?”

Yuuri nodded, trying not to lean into Victor’s touch. “Please, thank you.”

Victor kept kneading. “What do you like? I’ve never been to Japan, but I’ve eaten at some Japanese restaurants. What type of food sounds good right now?”

Yuuri wanted to explain they had western food in Japan, but he was too tired. And hungry, now that he thought about food too much. What sounded good right now? If he were at home, in his family’s hotel, or better still, at the Yuutopia onsen with his mother? He sighed. “Katsudon.”

“I don’t think I’ve had that one. What is it?”

Yuuri could see it in his mind. Taste it. “A pork cutlet bowl. Breaded cutlet with egg over rice with onion and dashi sauce. My mother adds peas.” Good God, but he wanted to go home right now and eat one, with her. Why had he come here?

Victor’s touch drew him out of his thoughts, back into the restaurant. “I don’t think they have those on the menu. But…hmm, they do have a breaded pork chop over rice. They also have breaded chicken strips with dipping sauce. What do you say we get both? Oh—they have vegetable tempura.”

Yuuri sat up straighter, making Victor’s hand slide further down his back. “They do?”

“Yes, See?” Victor held up the menu with his right hand, his left settling into the small of Yuuri’s back. It was too familiar, but it felt good. Yuuri looked at the menu, but he couldn’t see anything, just a sea of English words that made him panic, and all the while he thought about how close Victor was, and how he smelled of cologne and faintly of sweat.

“Yes,” Yuuri said, breathless.

Victor’s hand never left his back, though it moved around, sliding from his waist to his neck, always stroking and kneading, and once, deliciously, playing with Yuuri’s hair. It was forward and far, far too familiar, but Yuuri loved it and so said nothing, lest he break the spell. Victor kept talking, mostly nonsense about the club and how he liked to come here to unwind—he made Yuuri drink water, and then when the vodka came, Yuuri had to do a shot with him. Victor made the waiter leave the bottle.

“We’re going to drink all of it?” Yuuri was alarmed.

Victor waved this thought aside. “Not all, no. But more than one shot, yes, and it’s more convenient to have it here with us. Here, lift your glass.” He waited until Yuuri had hefted his small glass and clinked it against his own. “To your new adventures in New York.”

“ _Kampai,_ ” Yuuri murmured, and drank. It was good vodka, and it burned all the way down. 

As soon as he set his glass down, Victor poured them another round. “Again. You have a lot of cares to drown, and this is the best vodka you can find in America. Have another.”

“I can’t get drunk when I don’t even know where I’m staying,” Yuuri protested, but he drank anyway, after another toast.

As Victor poured the third round, he spoke in a hushed whisper, his accent thickening. “I have an idea about that, about where you should stay. But I think you need one more vodka before I tell you.”

Yuuri tried to turn and look at him, surprised and wary at this announcement, but Victor’s fingers threaded in his hair, massaging the back of his scalp. Yuuri couldn’t stop a groan. 

Victor nudged his shot glass into his hands. “One more, and I’ll tell you my idea. I promise.”

“I haven’t eaten since…” Yuuri tried to do the math. He didn’t even understand time of day any longer. “For a long time. I’m already spinning in my seat.”

Victor’s fingers were magic, his thumb sliding along a weary muscle in Yuuri’s neck. “One more. I can still feel too much tension in you. A little more vodka and you’ll relax completely.”

Yuuri fought the magnetic pull of Victor’s touch and turned his head to look at him at last. “We’ve just met.”

Victor winked at him. “But it was such a meeting.”

Staring at Victor, Yuuri realized, was more intoxicating and dangerous than vodka. Turning away, he drank the third shot.

The alcohol buzzed in him now, unlacing him, making everything soft and fuzzy around the edges. The food arrived and he fell to it like a ravenous beast, and when Victor cut the pork cutlet in pieces and fed it to him, he didn’t mind, he only laughed. 

And then Victor said, “Yuuri, I want you to stay with me tonight, instead of a hotel.”

When Yuuri drew back and stared at him, shocked, Victor poured him a fourth shot and pressed it into his hand. He had one for himself as well, but he didn’t drink it, only held it as he gazed at Yuuri, waiting for his answer.

Yuuri didn’t know what to say. He began with the obvious. “I…I can’t impose on you like that.”

“But you can. I just gave you permission to. In fact, I’ll be quite upset if you don’t.”

Yuuri clutched the glass of alcohol. “You just met me. You don’t know me at all. And I don’t know you.”

“This is what we’re doing now, Yuuri, getting to know one another better.” He pressed a hand over Yuuri’s, cradling it gently around the glass. “I’ll never sleep tonight if I know you’re out in the city alone. Please, let me take care of you.”

Yuuri’s blush was fierce. “I was going to ask you to take me back to the airport so I could get a ticket back to Japan.”

The devastation on Victor’s face stabbed Yuuri through the heart. “But then I couldn’t take you on a date.”

Yuuri couldn’t breathe. Not until he downed the vodka, and even then it took him several seconds to find air. “You…you want to take me on a date?”

“I wanted to take you on several. But I thought I’d start with one.” He stroked Yuuri’s cheek. “You’re so exhausted, aren’t you? Should I take you back to my condo? It’s not far from here. I do have to go out for a few hours, but I promise it won’t be long, and no one will disturb you. It’s a quiet, safe building, nothing like the hotel you would have stayed in.”

Yuuri turned away from Victor’s touch. “No. I—I don’t want to go there.”

Victor hesitated. “You…don’t want to stay with me?”

Yuuri thought about it. He did want to stay with Victor, but… “I don’t want to go there without you. I’ll wait.” Belatedly, he realized he was being rude, hadn’t even thanked Victor for his kind offer. “Thank you. For giving me a place to stay.”

Victor bit his lip, looking as if he were considering something. “I wonder if you could come along. It is a party, after all. I could bring a plus one. Would you like to be my date tonight, Yuuri?”

Yuuri felt deliciously floaty, with all the alcohol. A date tonight, with Victor? “Yes.” He realized Victor didn’t have his hands on him any longer, and he didn’t care for this absence. He put his arm around Victor’s waist, leaned in close. “Let’s drink more vodka, Victor.”

Was that a kiss on his nose? He felt, more than heard, Victor’s chuckle, rumbling through his chest. “Are you saying you want to get drunk with me, Katsuki-san?”

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Yuuri corrected. He frowned, realizing something. “What’s your last name?”

“Nikiforov.” Victor ran a finger down Yuuri’s cheek. “My darling Yuuri, if you get much drunker, you won’t be able to stand.”

“I can hold my alcohol.” Yuuri moved his hand to Victor’s thigh. “What about you, _Nikforov-san_?” 

That name, he realized, sounded vaguely familiar.

“I told you. I’m Russian. This is a dangerous game.” But Victor smiled and poured himself first one shot of vodka, then a second. “Now I’m even with you and one ahead. A handicap if you will.”

Yuuri immediately poured himself another shot and downed it. “No handicaps. I’ll win fair and square.”

“You won’t win.” Victor leaned forward to brush a kiss against Yuuri’s cheek, dangerously close to his mouth. “Darling, tell me you’re staying with me tonight?”

Yuuri’s heart skipped a beat. “Yes.”

Victor’s fingers found his, threaded them together. “Will you sleep in my bed, with me?”

Desire and low, pulsing heat rushed through Yuuri. He fought to keep his urges at bay, but they were swept up on the vodka. “We’ll see.”

Smiling, Victor released Yuuri’s fingers and poured them both another round. “Have something more to drink,” Victor urged.

Yuuri did.

* * *

The fifth time Victor’s phone rang, he finally pulled it out of his pocket to see who it was. When he read the display, he gave a dramatic sigh.

Yuuri, inside the cradle of Victor’s arm, drew the phone closer and squinted at it. “Who is it? Who is Christophe? Your boyfriend? Do I have to fight him?”

Or rather, he said something like that. Yuuri’s Japanese was getting quite slurred, and Victor’s brain had turned sloshy. They were both quite tipsy. But though the bottle of vodka was well on its way to being depleted, Yuuri had held his own. Victor was impressed.

He was not, however, excited about this phone call. “Chris is my friend.” He made a face at his phone. “Except I don’t think he is tonight. Tonight I think he’s my enemy.”

Yuuri elbowed him. “Why did you switch to English? You keep doing that.”

He did? Victor rubbed his cheek. He must be drunker than he thought. It was Yuuri’s fault, for being able to drink him under the table. He tried to rally his brain to Japanese. “Chris works with me. He wants me to go to a party.”

Yuuri brightened. “I like parties. Let’s go.”

Victor laughed. “You _hate_ parties. You hate _people_ , you said.”

Yuuri batted this idea away drunkenly. “I want to meet your friends.”

“Ah, but they aren’t my friends, except for Chris. They’re people I work with.” Victor considered what he’d just said. “Well, I like some of them. Yuri is all right, sometimes, but he’s cranky unless he’s with Otabek.”

“I don’t know any Otabek,” Yuuri said.

“No—another Yuri. My cousin.” Victor only realized now that they had the same name. “He’s younger. Still in school, but he thinks he knows everything. Always getting into trouble with Otabek. Or rather, getting Otabek into trouble.” Just thinking about Yuri made Victor reach for more vodka.

Yuuri stopped him, pouring them each another round. “We drink together, remember?”

They toasted each other, then drank. Victor hurried his down, so he could turn his head and watch Yuuri’s throat work, could focus on feeling the press of his body against Victor’s own. He wanted the man in his bed, and not to sleep politely beside him either. He was beautiful. His cheeks were slightly rounded, flush with the alcohol. His throat was an invitation into the now open collar of Yuuri’s shirt, his tie undone. He’s shed his jacket, as had Victor, though Victor still wore his waistcoat. Victor had a tendency when drinking to take off his clothes. He tried not to follow that urge in five star clubs, but all he could think about was that this was a private room, and if he slipped their waiter a hundred he wouldn’t come back for at least half an hour…

His phone rang again. This time Yuuri picked it up, frowned at the display. “It’s Christophe again. Are you sure this isn’t your boyfriend?”

“I’m incredibly sure.” Sighing,Victor took the phone and answered, bracing himself for the shouting. “Chris. Darling. I can explain.”

“I know enough English to know darling. I think he’s your boyfriend,” Yuuri muttered, and poured himself more vodka.

Victor took it from him before he could drink as Chris peeled the wax from his ear. “—been trying to call you for an _hour_ , everyone is looking for you, what are you _playing at_?”

Yuuri kept trying to get the shot, and Victor wouldn’t let him have it. “Chris, sweetheart, there were extenuating circumstances.”

“ _Sweetheart_ ,” Yuuri repeated, and swore in Japanese.

“He’s _not_ my boyfriend,” Victor hissed in the same language.

“What in the world did you just say?” Chris said, his tone switching from angry to baffled. “Did you just…speak Japanese?”

“Stop calling him sweetheart and darling, then,” Yuuri slurred, and swiped the entire bottle of vodka. 

“Chris, I honestly have my hands full right now,” he said, and hung up on him. He managed to get the bottle away from Yuuri and captured his hands. “ _Darling._ ” He said it in Japanese, English, and Russian, just to drive the point across. “Chris has a boyfriend. They’re all but engaged. We’re nothing but friends. But he’s furious with me for abandoning him at the party, so I had to play nice.”

Yuuri curled his fingers around Victor’s. “I want to go to this party.”

God, but Victor half wanted to take him. “It’s a terribly boring party.”

Yuuri’s slow, wicked smile sent butterflies through Victor’s belly. “Then let’s go make it fun.”

Victor drew Yuuri’s hand to his lips, kissed the tips of his fingers. “You’re very different when you’re drunk, Katsuki Yuuri.”

“I’m not drunk. Only relaxed.” Yuuri curled his fingers around Victor’s cheek. “Take me to this party. I want to meet your Chris.”

“I’m telling you, he’s really not _my_ Chris.” It took everything in Victor not to close his eyes to Yuuri’s touch. “You can’t challenge him to a duel, either.”

“I might. You never know.” Yuuri dropped his hand, leaving Victor feeling bereft. “So. Where is the bill? I said I would pay it.”

The bill was going to be obscene, with the vodka Victor had ordered. “You don’t have to, honestly—”

Yuuri grabbed Victor’s tie and gently but firmly tugged him in close. “Victor.”

Victor’s heart thudded in his ears. “Yes?” he whispered.

“Did you want me to stay with you tonight?”

Victor shut his eyes. “ _Yes_.”

“Bring me the check.”

What else could Victor do? When the waiter came, Victor asked for the bill, but presented it to Yuuri. He tensed as Yuuri opened it, ready to explain how an Uber driver had racked up an expensive order, coming clean on the spot, paying the bill if it was too rich for Yuuri’s blood, but Yuuri only pulled out a pair of glasses, read the tally, and calmly laid out enough hundreds and fifties to cover the total. 

Then he paused, looked up at Victor with uncertainty. “Is it right? The money? Oh, but there is the tip, here.” He rifled through his wallet for another fifty. “Now, is it right?”

All Victor could think as Yuuri looked at him was that good lord, but Yuuri looked sexy in glasses.

“Victor?”

Victor cleared his throat and snapped out of his stupor. “Yes. Yes, it’s fine.” He rubbed his face, but he had a feeling it was already too late. He was never getting that image of Yuuri and those glasses out of his mind.

Yuuri wouldn’t hold his hand on the street, but he did allow Victor to keep his hand on his elbow, and if Victor was subtle, he could sometimes keep his hand on the small of Yuuri’s back as they walked the three blocks to Lila’s studio where the “little gathering” as Chris kept calling it was being held. Everyone from the company would be there, but also important people Yakov and Chris wanted to impress. Victor was meant to be there to help grease any wheels that needed coaxing along, which essentially explained his entire role in the company. 

Good God, Chris was going to shit a brick when he showed up three sheets to the wind with an equally inebriated Japanese businessman he barely knew on his arm. A _jealous_ inebriated Japanese businessman, whose English and Japanese got worse with every drop of vodka. 

Yuuri’s hand slipped, subtly, beneath Victor’s jacket as they rode the elevator to the suite. “You liked it when I grabbed your tie.”

Victor startled, tripped over his feet. Yuuri caught him and steadied him, kept them walking. “I…did.”

Yuuri’s hand rested on Victor’s hip. “I can grab it some more, later. Unless it turns out you were lying about Chris.”

Victor could tell that Yuuri was teasing…and also wasn’t. He smiled and leaned a little closer, wishing they were already through with this party. “I’m not lying. But we could skip this party.”

“You said you were supposed to go. It’s important to keep your obligations.”

Victor drew back, aghast. “Do you mean you _didn’t_ come here because you were jealous? You were tricking me into behaving?”

Yuuri’s wink would have been adorable if he weren’t so devious. “Come,” he said as the door to the elevator opened. “I think we’re already late, yes?”

They had straightened their clothes before leaving the restaurant, but Victor fussed over himself one last time in the mirror outside the door, and Yuuri helped straighten his tie, smoothing his lapels. “These people are important to you?”

Victor searched for how to explain the menagerie behind that door in his third language. “They’re my family, and my friends, and my business partners. But they also make me angry, and lonely, and sad.”

Yuuri nodded, seeming to understand this answer even though it explained nothing at all. “How can I help you? Is this an important party? With important people?”

How to explain? “Yakov—he’s in charge of everyone here in the States—has these parties to keep people united, he says. His ex wife hosts them. I’m supposed to go around and make sure everyone is happy. To be seen making everyone happy, which makes the company look good.”

“But there is no one making sure _you_ are happy?”

A thickness formed in Victor’s throat. “No. There isn’t.”

Yuuri stroked his hand, drew it to his lips. “Tonight there is.”

Victor’s heart clenched. He caught Yuuri’s hand, squeezed it tight. He thought again of clarifying the misunderstanding about who Victor was and wasn’t, but it felt foolish and awkward to blurt it out right now. “Later, there are things I’d like to explain to you,” he said as a compromise.

“I look forward to hearing them,” Yuuri said.

And so Victor went up to the door of Lila’s studio with Yuuri on his arm, nervous, still slightly tipsy, but excited and slightly nervous in an entirely different way than when he’d imagined himself here mere hours ago, before he’d been mistaken for a ride for hire.

It took less than thirty seconds of Victor’s arrival for Chris to find them. 

“ _Victor._ What in the devil—“ He stopped short when he spied Yuuri, his face slipping into a poker mask. “And what do we have here?”

“Chris, I’d like to introduce Mr. Yuuri Katsuki, an acquaintance from Japan whom I’ve had the pleasure of meeting this evening.” Victor said, speaking slowly and deliberately in English in hopes that Yuuri wouldn’t have trouble. “Yuuri, this is my friend and business associate, Christophe Giacometti.”

Yuuri had stiffened up significantly from the relaxed presence he’d had in the hall, but he managed to extend his hand to Chris—though not until he almost began a polite bow. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, his words careful and exact, and heavily accented.

Chris accepted Yuuri’s hand, but a strange expression passed over his face, and he glanced at Victor with a strange look before once more wiping his face clean and putting on his usual fixer smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet any friend of Victor’s, of course.” He cupped Victor’s elbow. “Darling, can I see you for a moment?”

Victor turned to Yuuri, ready to explain to Chris that he couldn’t abandon his guest, but Yuuri was already shaking his head, a small, knowing smile on his face. 

“Go on,” he said in Japanese. “I’ll be fine.” 

Victor’s gaze darted to Chris, then back to Yuuri. “Are you sure? I haven’t introduced you to anyone, and I don’t think anyone else here knows Japanese.”

“I’ll be fine.” Yuuri made shooing motions at him. “Go.”

Victor couldn’t help but notice, though, that Yuuri cast a jealous glare at Chris before he turned away, heading for a waiter with a  tray of champagne. 

Chris wasted no time dragging Victor to a private corner, where the grilling began. “What in the world, Victor? Where have you been? What are you playing at, bringing—”

“A friend?” Victor cut Chris off sharply. “Come now. Don’t tell me the family is dictating who I chose to spend my personal time with as well.”

Chris gave him a strange look. “How did you meet this… _friend_?”

Victor sighed. “It’s a long story. But he is a friend, let’s leave it at that. And he’s in a bit of a fix. His hotel is a nightmare, he has nowhere to stay, and the job he’s supposed to be interviewing for sounds like a disaster to me. I had half a mind to ask you if there was something we had he could apply for, but if I invented something for him, he’d have my head. I mean, if he won’t let me pay for dinner and drinks, I doubt he’d let me invent a job. Plus I still have to explain I’m not actually an Uber driver. Without upsetting him. Except I’m afraid it’s going to upset him, when he finds out, though I’m not sure why.”

Chris shook his head as if trying to clear water from his ears. “I’m sorry, he thinks you’re _what_?”

“It’s a long story. But Yuuri is why I’m late, though he’s also the only reason I came. He tricked me into coming, said I had a duty to be here. Now he’s off being grilled by God knows who, and he can barely speak English.  If I go try to rescue him, though, you can bet he’ll shoo me off and tell me to do my duty or something.” Victor ran a hand through his hair, remembering the look Yuuri gave him through those glasses, the feel of that hand against his tie. “I’m only doing it because I’m fairly sure it’s the only prayer I have of getting him into bed, and I’m not even sure that’s in the bag.”

Chris kept looking at him with such odd expressions. “Right.” He clapped Victor on the shoulder. “Then why don’t you go make your rounds, charm the people who’ve been asking for you, and I’ll see to your Mr. Katsuki.”

Victor couldn’t decide if this was the best or worst idea ever. “You have to _be nice_ to him, Chris. I want to _sleep_ with him.”

“Well, I don’t, so this works out.”

“You need to explain that to him. That you and I have nothing to do with each other. He didn’t like that I called you darling on the phone.”

Chris raised his eyebrows. “Is that so? How interesting.” 

Victor had a bad feeling about this. “Please, Chris.”

“Don’t worry, darling. I’ll take good care of him.”

This is what Chris said, yes. But the thread of wickedness in his friend’s tone made Victor grab two glasses of champagne from the tray as it passed by, and he downed one of them straight. Then he held the other one and pasted on a smile, did his best to put on the mask he always wore at these gatherings, and went out to meet Yakov’s guests.

* * *

Yuuri deliberately didn’t look at Victor, because if he made eye contact, he was afraid his new friend would see how absolutely terrified he was.

Terrified and confused, if he were honest, but if he kept sipping at champagne, he found he was able to keep both emotions in check enough to function. He still wasn’t sure of the wisdom of imposing on Victor’s goodwill, and he had no idea how to process the idea that he was likely to have sex tonight, with a man he’d just met. That never happened to Yuuri, and the few times it had in his youth had ended in disaster. The idea that this pattern would continue when he was alone in a strange country with nowhere to go made him gulp more champagne.

He also didn’t understand where they were or why Victor had seemed so familiar at an expensive club and was now clearly an important part of a high-end business organization but was also a driver for Uber. It _was_ Uber black, though, and it fit Victor’s personality to give rides for the fun of it. Though this bothered Yuuri, the idea that Victor sought out strangers for novelty. This meant he was such a diversion and nothing more, and this thought also made him drink more champagne. 

He was drinking quite a bit of champagne, to be honest. He’d long ago lost track of how many glasses he’d had.

“Oy. Who are you?”

Yuuri put down his glass and turned around, looking for the speaker, not even sure they’d been addressing him. He found a short blond young man glaring at him from beneath a shiny bob, looking uncomfortable in his suit. He looked a little like Victor. 

The boy glared harder at Yuuri. “I said, who are you?”

Yuuri didn’t think this young man wanted to shake his hand, so he stuck to a bow. “Hello. It’s nice to meet you.” It was getting difficult not to slur his words, and his English felt like he was fishing it out of the water. “My name is Yuuri Katsuki.”

The boy didn’t like this answer at all. “What?” He folded his arms over his chest. “Is this a joke? You playing a joke with  my cousin?”

Yuuri frowned, trying to follow. “I’m sorry, what did you say? My English isn’t very good.”

“Yeah, right. Very funny.” He gestured to himself. “I’m the only Yuri we need around here. Tell Victor his joke is stupid, just like him.”

Yuuri brightened. “You are Yuri? Victor’s cousin?”

“Didn’t I just say that?” Yuri regarded Yuuri dubiously as he continued to smile at him, straining to translate his English through his Russian accent. “Can you really not understand me?”

Yuuri could understand about ten percent of what he said. He kept his polite smile in place and wished for more champagne. A tray came past, as if he’d wished it into existence, and he grabbed two glasses, downing one as if it were water. When he finished and found Yuri still frowning at him, he decided to go on the offensive. “I am visiting from Japan. I met Victor through Uber. He gave me a ride and helped me when my hotel was bad.”

Yuri raised an eyebrow. “Your hotel was bad?”

“Yes. There were gunshots.”

Now Yuri raised both eyebrows. “Holy shit.”

Yuuri nodded in agreement. “I have nowhere to stay. Victor is being very helpful.” He glanced across the room at his host,  felt a flicker of nerves and want, and drowned them in more alcohol.

“You’re sure drinking a lot,” Yuri observed. 

“I’m a little nervous.” Yuuri finished the second glass. He wasn’t feeling as nervous now. English was difficult, but he felt…a little wicked. “This party is…” He searched for the word. “Intimidating.”

Yuri snorted. “It’s _boring._ ” He gestured to the far side of the room where a dark-haired young man stood behind a panel full of electronics. “That’s my friend Otabek. He’s supposed to be DJing, but they’re making him play such crappy music. I want to dance.”

Yuuri took a moment to translate what Yuri said. “You can’t dance to this music? Or it isn’t allowed?”

Yuri stiffened, his feathers clearly ruffled. “Nobody can dance to this. It’s crap.”

Yuuri laughed. “ _I_ could dance to it.”

“No way.”

Yuuri set down the champagne glasses and smoothed his hands over his jacket. “I accept your challenge.”

Yuri’s eyes went wide. “What, you’re going to do it? Dance right here?” When Yuuri only stared at him, he rephrased. “Where are you going to dance? Are you dancing?”

Yuuri eyed the space in front of Yuri’s DJ friend, where a few guests shuffled politely on the parquet. “There. I’ll dance there.”

Grabbing another glass of champagne, he downed it and headed for the dance floor.

The music was a little stale, but if Yuuri was confident in one place, it was when he was dancing. He’d danced long before he started skating, and he kept his ballet up to help his skating performance. It was credited with the signature artistry of his career. He didn’t have skating now, but he could still dance. And it had been some time.

The champagne helped. He closed his eyes and moved in his own world, feeling the flow and color of the sound—the songs were in English, but it didn’t matter, because music was a language he could always understand. It didn’t even matter that the music the greatest in the world. He could still reach inside it and find its core, the ribbon inside it he could spin out into something beautiful.

When he opened his eyes, he saw he’d become the center of a small crowd, which didn’t surprise him, but he smiled to see Yuri was in the circle with him, trying to keep up with him as he danced. He glowered, jaw set, clearly not ready to let this newcomer outdo him on his own turf.

Yuuri smiled, apologetically, shed his jacket and loosened his tie, and stopped playing around.

It was a contest now, and he wasn’t going to lose. He could tell Yuri had received some training, but not enough, and Yuuri knew he could beat him three times as drunk and with his injury flared up, which it wasn’t. He toyed with the boy, though, first simply moving his shoulders and hips, giving a few circles, biting back a smile as the crowd applauded and Yuri growled his frustration as he tried to keep up.

Then, as Yuuri had hoped he would, Otabek gave them a song with a faster beat, and Yuuri gave Yuri a saucy wink and a grin, dropped to the floor, pushed up with one arm, popped up, dropped down again, kicked out to one side, spun around, twirled, then popped up one more time and undulated in a spin as he further loosened his tie, three buttons, and popped his hips.

“What the _hell_?” Yuri cried out, and Yuuri laughed, launching into another spin, raising his arms above his head.

The crowd was wild now, and the music was louder—clearly the DJ had decided to ignore the rule about only playing staid, quiet party music and was giving them a show, or at least was giving Yuuri and Yuri the background music they needed for their dance off. A dim part of Yuuri’s mind worried this wasn’t the best idea for whatever important business Victor had, but the champagne soaked part said it didn’t matter and he should keep dancing.

“What’s this? A dancing competition?” 

Yuuri turned in his dance to face Christophe, who had appeared on the dance floor with him. Yuuri thought briefly about being polite, thought about Victor calling him darling, and decided not to. “Yes. Will you try to beat me?”

Chris snorted and gave Yuuri a condescending smile. “Honey, I will _bury_ you.”

Yuuri didn’t exactly understand the words, but he heard the sentiment loud and clear. “And so we begin,” he said in Japanese, and went back to his dancing.

Chris was pretty good, much better than Yuri. He relied on sensual moves, though, not technique, so all Yuuri had to do was work hard and he could—what had Chris said? Bury him. He especially enjoyed making Chris dance _with_ him, because he could tell the other man was as competitive as he was and didn’t care for it.

Yuuri was working up a sweat. He pushed up the sleeves of his shirt and unbuttoned a few more buttons, his tie now so loose it flapped and flew as he moved.

“You’re good, I’ll grant you that.” Chris was sweating too. He didn’t just unbutton his shirt, he took it all the way off, and to Yuuri’s surprise, he began unbuttoning his trousers too. “But I have an ace in my sleeve you don’t have. Sorry, Katsuki, but it’s time to put this to bed.”

The crowd gasped and whooped as Chris stepped out of his trousers, then, clad only in his tie and tiny briefs, backed against a metal support pole and began to undulate and spin as if he were a stripper.

Yuuri watched him move, impressed, but mostly he gauged what Chris did with the pole, checking the strength of the metal and how strong the thing really was. It seemed pretty strong, like it could take a lot of weight. Which was good, considering what Yuuri was going to have to do now to top Chris.

Because Yuuri was absolutely going to top Chris.

He stripped down to his underwear as well, though he left his socks on, mostly because he was drunk and forgot to take them off. He didn’t leave his tie on, though, because he knew he needed freedom to move—he came up behind Chris at the pole, first undulating, hanging on the metal, ignoring the way the crowd was shrieking now, everyone taking pictures and video. He ignored Chris’s question— _what are you doing_ —and gripped the metal above Chris’s head, double checking to make sure it was, in fact, strong enough to hold him.

It was. Grinning, Yuuri hefted himself up, wrapping his legs around the pole as he began an entirely new kind of dance.

He’d thought Minkao was crazy to suggest pole dancing lessons as rehab after his first injury—a minor one, not the one that had ended everything. But it turned out to be great strength training, a lot of fun, and a wonderful party trick. Of course, it was rare he was somewhere with a pole where he could show of his skills, but when the opportunity arose, like somewhere such as this—well, it was a lot of fun, trumping Chris’s ace with something like this.

The look on Chris’s face was precious as he watched Yuuri undulate on the pole, gripping it with his thighs, holding himself sideways braced by his arms, arching his body, moving always to the beat. He felt bad, though, because Chris looked a little bit destroyed, and this _was_ Victor’s friend, he did understand that, so he held out his hand and invited the man onto the pole with him.

With a grin, Chris joined him, and they moved together, Yuuri leading them in a winding, sensual pole dance until the song ended and the crowd erupted in applause.

“You’re not what I thought, Yuuri Katsuki,” Chris said as he and Yuuri climbed into their clothes.

Yuuri wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he only nodded and said, “Thank you.”

He had his tie in his hand when he saw Victor standing on the sidelines, watching him. The music faded, the crowd became a fuzzy frame, and Yuuri dropped his tie and his jacket as well, crossing the dance floor without breaking eye contact with the only man he had ever wanted to see, the only one his heart had ever wanted to dance with, if he were honest.

Victor looked surprised, stunned—and so soft. He looked the same way he’d looked in the restaurant, when he and Yuuri had sat so close to one another, when they’d done nothing but touch each other.

Yuuri wanted to touch him again.

He held out his hand. “Dance with me, Victor?”

Blushing, Victor put his hand in his. “I’d love to.”

Smiling, Yuuri led him to the dance floor.

* * *

Victor had been talking to the French distributor, trying to remember his French and pretend he was interested in the discussion when he started to hear the shouts and laughter from the other side of the room, but it wasn’t until his conversation partner herself wanted to see what was going on that he was allowed to indulge his own curiosity.

Never in a thousand years had he expected to see Yuuri and Yuri dancing with each other, Yuuri egging Yuri on. But he had nearly stopped breathing when Chris had stripped down and started pole dancing— _and Yuuri had followed and one-upped him._ Hell, Yuuri had three-upped him.

Now here was Yuuri, dressed once more, red-cheeked with his heart naked in his eyes, asking Victor to dance.

Victor glanced at Chris, standing with Yuri, who both looked a bit shell-shocked. Victor couldn’t stop a smile. “You did say you’d challenge Chris to a duel. And that you’d make this party fun.”

Yuuri shrugged, but he looked satisfied too. “They challenged me. I had to defend my honor.”

“You’re competitive, Katsuki Yuuri.”

He smiled and spun Victor away from him, then dipped him low. “I don’t like to lose.”

Victor stared up at him, breathless, suspended almost upside down with the lights of the room framing Yuuri’s dark hair light a halo, but the moment was over too soon and he was upright again. “What if I challenged you to a dance off as well?”

“You would lose.”

Victor considered this. “Would I, though, Yuuri? I don’t think so.”

Yuuri sighed and laced his fingers through Victor’s. “Very well.”

 Their dance was different than the one he’d seen Yuuri do with Yuri or Chris—it was far more playful and decidedly more sensual. For one, Yuuri danced _with_ him, spinning him, even lifting him on occasion, though a few times Victor returned the favor. They danced a few formal dance moves—some salsa, a bit of tango, but mostly they improvised. There was one point where Victor ended up playing bullfighter to Yuuri’s bull, which was ridiculous and thrilling all at once. 

“You’ve taken ballet,” Yuuri said as they met up once again, sweaty and breathless.

“I have.” Victor stroked Yuuri’s face before spinning away. “You as well.”

“My whole life.”

“Until I was nineteen.”

“Hmm.”

It was _fun_ to try to beat Yuuri, to feel the pressure keep mounting, to know everyone was watching and wondering what was going on, who was this man Victor had brought into their midst. Victor wanted to know that too. He wanted to know more about Yuuri. So much more.

Right now, though, he wanted to know one part of him most of all.

When Yuuri drove Victor to a chair, pushed him into it then ground against him in a sensual lap dance to the gasps of the crowd, Victor tipped his head back, letting it happen. He had no idea what Yakov or Lila thought, what lectures he’d face tomorrow, and he didn’t care. All he knew right now was that Yuuri had set his body on fire and that he would do whatever this wonderful, magical man told him to do.

“I win,” Yuuri said, leaning in to whisper in Victor’s ear as the song ended.

 _So do I, Yuuri._ Victor gripped his hips tightly, holding him in place as he turned his head to nip at Yuuri’s neck. “Let’s go to my place now.” _Please, Yuuri._

He shut his eyes in relief as Yuuri’s hands threaded into his hair, as Yuuri pressed a kiss against his cheek. 

“Yes.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there. Thanks again for all the comments on the story so far. Hope you enjoy this installment as well. I'm certainly having fun with it.
> 
> I said a bit of this in a comment on Chapter One, but to recap: I'm writing this fic as a release valve as I edit a novel for my day job, which is that I am actually a published writer. This is all for fun and escape because someone already did the heavy lifting of creating characters, plus I love, love, love YOI, and also editing isn't writing and it makes me feel drained and half dead. Chapters one and two were written while I waited for my manuscript to come back from my editor and my schedule to free up to start, but today I actually dig in, so I'll probably slow down updates a little. 
> 
> Today was a long one, unexpectedly. It was kind of weird because if I were writing a novel I'd have broken this chapter up (would never go over 5 or 6k) but I made my fussiness take a backseat and let it ride. I'm not really editing these so sorry about misspellings and continuity messes. 
> 
> It will probably be Tuesday or Wednesday before I can update again, but you never know. I'll definitely be faster with this than I am on poor Storyteller. The poor baby.
> 
> As with everything I write, this fic has a soundtrack, and if you're interested, it's here. https://open.spotify.com/user/12123422997/playlist/1m4uWnra7NnjsVEpq7Slyz
> 
> My day job is at www.heidicullinan.com, I'm on Twitter at @heidicullinan, but the fun stuff is on Tumblr at @cullinankatsudon because it's just YOI stuff.
> 
> Okay now I have to go work so play all the tiny violins for me.


	3. Chapter 3

Yuuri didn’t remember leaving the party. His memory had stopped moving forward in proper fashion sometime during his dance with Victor, and his mind presented him images in shards: a glaring Yuri being consoled by the DJ. Chris being scolded by an older man with a bald spot and longer gray hair. A redheaded woman who eyed him curiously but with an air of approval. 

Victor, smiling at him as he led them through the crush of people after their dance.

Victor with his hand at the small of Yuuri’s back. He kept putting it there.

Victor in the elevator, crowding Yuuri’s body into the wall.

Victor in a different elevator with the tables turned because Yuuri hadn’t been in the mood to be driven, not any more today, thank you…but he was quite content to be the one to drive.

“Yuuri…” Victor’s whisper was a plea, as was his pale blue gaze, the only part of Yuuri’s world still in focus. That and Victor’s lips. Victor said something else, in slurred English, in Russian, then in butchered Japanese, but it hadn’t mattered what the words were. Yuuri knew what he wanted.

The elevator opened and Yuuri led them out, staggering only a moment as he found his feet. He’d had a bit too much to drink. “Which way?” He asked this of Victor, but apparently they were both so drunk they’d lost the ability to speak and understand each other properly, with words. 

Victor gestured to a hallway, tugged Yuuri toward it, but once Victor had his keys out and the door open, Yuuri put a hand on his hip, directing him inside. The glance Victor sent him over his shoulder wasn’t surprised, only hungry, even relieved. Yuuri’s blood pounded, rushing within him as he thought of what he wanted to do—should he move slowly, or should he attack—

His only warning was a soft bark, and then he was knocked sideways into the hallway of the condo by a large, curly-haired dog whose face appeared, tongue-lolling, above his own seconds before Yuuri was smothered in eager kisses. 

“Makkachin,” Victor scolded, but without heat. “That’s where I wanted to be.”

Yuuri couldn’t help laughing. That much English he could still understand. “If you lick my face like this,” he said in Japanese, “I won’t sleep with you.”

“Then tell me how I _should_ kiss you, Yuuri, so that you will.”

It seemed the dog had sobered both of them, at least enough to speak. Good dog. Ruffling Makkachin’s fur and cooing to it gently, Yuuri climbed to his feet, stepped around the dog, and closed in on Victor. He shed his jacket on the way, tossing it onto a chair. “You shouldn’t. You should let me kiss you.”

He liked the way this statement made Victor take a step back, made his blue eyes widen and flare brighter in the dim light. “Should I stand here and wait for you, then?”

Yuuri smiled. “You’re not patient, are you, Victor?”

“I’m not known for it, no.”

Yuuri took a step closer, so close he could feel the heat of Victor’s body—but he very deliberately didn’t touch him. “I once spent six months perfecting one jump.”

“Is this your way of telling me you intend to make me wait tonight?”

No, it wasn’t. Especially since despite the slip and breaking his rule to not talk about his skating career, Victor didn’t discuss it. He didn’t seem to care about it. Probably, Yuuri realized, it was because he didn’t know about it. This was what Phichit and the others kept trying to tell him. Most people in the States didn’t follow figure skating. They weren’t going to ask who he was. They weren’t going to care.

How annoying to discover he wanted Victor to care a _little_ bit.

“It’s my way of pointing out you’re impatient.” He stroked Victor’s cheek. “And that I am not.”

Yuuri liked the way Victor’s gaze softened. “You’re not nervous any longer. When I picked you up, you were so nervous.”

“I’m still nervous.” Yuuri kept stroking Victor’s skin, moving now to his neck. “But I have a lovely distraction.”

“What are you nervous about?”

 _That you will find me wanting. That my job interview will go poorly. That it will go well. That I will have to face finding a new hotel tomorrow._ “So many things.” He brushed Victor’s hair out of his eyes. “But I’m glad too. Glad it was your car that came to meet me. Glad that you speak such good Japanese. Glad you were kind enough to give me a place to stay.”

Victor let his head fall into Yuuri’s hand, shutting his eyes as he sank into Yuuri’s touch. He smiled, steadying himself on Yuuri’s hips as he swayed. “How are you so sober? The room has been spinning on me for an hour, I haven’t had vodka since the restaurant, and from what I heard, you drank your weight in champagne after you left me.”

“I’m definitely not sober.” 

“You _sound_ sober.”

Why were they having this argument? Yuuri ran a hand down the side of Victor’s body. “If I were sober, I wouldn’t be doing this.”

Victor shivered, leaning forward until his forehead touched Yuuri’s. “What, touching me?”

“Yes.” Yuuri considered that response. “No.” Wait, was that right? “I would be too afraid to touch you.”

“But why?”

“Because you’re too beautiful to touch.”

Victor lifted his head and regarded Yuuri with surprise, his blue eyes wide in the dim light. “What—Yuuri.” He blushed, touched Yuuri’s face. “That’s…the sweetest, most terrible thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Yuuri frowned at him. “Why is it terrible? You _are_ beautiful. Right now you’re glowing like moonlight. Why are you even looking at a man like me?”

This only seemed to perplex Victor more. “Of course I look at you. You’re handsome, you’re charming, you’re intriguing, and if you move even half as good in bed as you do on a dance floor…But I was interested in you before that. There’s something about you. I want to get to know you. “ He stroked Yuuri’s face. “Besides, if I’m too beautiful to touch, I’m going to be so lonely, Yuuri.”

“Let other beautiful people touch you, then.”

Victor raised an eyebrow. “Do they not have mirrors in Japan?”

This time it was Yuuri who leaned into Victor, pressing his forehead into Victor’s neck. Victor was taller than he was. His neck was just the right height. Everything about Victor was just right, so perfect it made Yuuri ache. For years, for his whole life, if he were honest, he’d searched for something, someone…and it had to be drunken fancy, but oh, if his heart wasn’t shouting at him, _here he is at last. Take him, he’s yours._

Such dangerous, treacherous thoughts.

“I should leave.” He said this but only leaned heavier into Victor, a man settling in.

Victor wrapped his arms tighter around Yuuri’s waist. “I won’t let you. Your suitcase is still in my trunk. I won’t get it for you until you promise to stay.”

“I have medication in there I need to take in the morning.”

Victor sagged against Yuuri, pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “Please stay, Yuuri. Stay with me.”

Yuuri drew a deep breath of Victor, both hands on his sides, hooking his thumbs into his waistband. “It’s not like on the dance floor,” he whispered.

Yuuri shut his eyes, telling himself to stop talking, but he _was_ drunk, his head spinning, his tongue loose inside his mouth. “I won’t be good in bed. Not like on the dance floor. I won’t be clever and flashy in the morning. I’ll be embarrassed and horrified at what I did at your party, self-conscious because —“ He cut himself off, swearing under his breath. “Dammit, why can’t I stop talking? I should just seduce you.” His conscience, which had been trying to climb out its champagne bath four an hour, finally managed to surface. “Except you’re drunk too. It wouldn’t be right.”

“Oh, no you don’t.” Victor took Yuuri’s face in both hands and drew him in close, their gazes locked, Victor’s blue eyes burning. “Don’t give me a speech about honor after winding me up all night long.”

“But we _are_ both drunk, it wouldn’t be right—”

“You said you were going to kiss me.”

So he had. Now Yuuri was torn between two calls to his honor, and in the end…

In the end, really, there was only one choice.

He cradled Victor’s face tenderly in his hands, running thumbs along Victor’s jaw to memorize the slope and curve of his face. He noted the contrast of their skin tone, evident even in the darkness—Yuuri was pale, but Victor was paler, his base pigment different as well. And of course there was Victor’s impossible hair. Was it truly silver, or silver-blond? He was, truly, the most perfectly made man Yuuri had ever seen, and he’d been a professional athlete. That pale pink mouth, however, parted on a gasp, might be Yuuri’s favorite aspect of him.

“This isn’t a kiss, this is _torture_ ,” Victor murmured, turning his pink mouth into a frown.

Yuuri laughed. His head really was spinning—how much of it was the alcohol, and how much of it was exhaustion? How much of it was Victor? He didn’t know. He didn’t care anymore.

He ran his thumb across Victor’s frown, smiled as Victor shivered and parted his lips on a gasp.

Then Yuuri closed his lips over Victor’s.

Victor Nikiforov tasted sweet, and light, like a spring rain shower. The hands that gripped him, though, drawing him closer, kneading into him as Victor impatiently rushed the kiss, pleading with Yuuri to take it deeper—they were a summer storm. Yuuri had been determined to proceed slowly, carefully, then strategically withdraw, but Victor swept this all away, barreling forward until there was nothing left of Yuuri, not even the disappointment and fear from the day, only the raw emotions that Victor inspired in him.

He shed his shoes, his shirt, his belt as Victor led him through the apartment toward a bedroom. All the while Victor’s mouth chased his, not letting him move more than an inch away, constantly drawing him back. By the time the bed hit the back of his legs, he was in a Victor-shaped vortex, everything spinning except for the man pressing him into the mattress, sliding their bodies together, plundering his mouth with his tongue.

 _So good._ Despite what he’d said, it was the dance floor all over again, though this time the tango was horizontal. And while Yuuri had intended otherwise, Victor was the one who led, sliding his hands up and down Yuuri’s naked chest, urging him in increasingly butchered Japanese to help him climb out of his shirt. When Victor’s mouth closed over his shoulder, their naked chests pressed together, Yuuri gasped and arched his back, shivering at the contact of skin and skin, the world spiraling away from him.

Except, _seriously_ , everything was spinning, and it was getting faster and faster…

“Victor…” When Victor didn’t listen, Yuuri shoved him back hard, sat up with a gasp, and then a groan.

Victor sat on the bed beside him, stroking his shoulder as he regarded him in concern. “Are you all right, darling? Am I going too fast?”

The world wasn’t just spinning now—Yuuri’s stomach was twisting into a knot, telling him in no uncertain terms what it thought of all the alcohol he’d consumed that evening. “Oh my God, Victor, I’m going to be sick,” Yuuri whispered, and shuffled off for what he hoped to God was Victor’s bathroom.

* * *

It was the first time Victor’s kisses had made someone vomit.

Well, that he knew of.

Yuuri had made it to the toilet, barely, though he’d almost hurled into Victor’s collection of Gucci and Saint Laurent shoes as he opened the closet instead. He’d apologized between heaves until he was so worn out he could barely hold himself upright, at which point he slouched against the bathroom wall and murmured slurred Japanese as Victor quietly mopped him up with a cool washcloth. As Victor hefted Yuuri to his feet and encouraged him to rinse out his mouth and run a toothbrush over his teeth—thankfully he had a spare in the cupboard—Yuuri gathered himself together enough to speak properly.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so incredibly sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Victor truly didn’t want him to worry, and did his best to convey this with his tone, his body, his smile. He held a glass of water to Yuuri’s lips. “Here. Can you drink a little, or will you be sick?”

Yuuri sipped carefully, then winced and shook his head. “No more.”

“I’ll put it by the bedside. Will you be all right in the bathroom alone? I’ll loan you a pair of gym shorts to sleep in, then help you to the bed.”

“I’ll be…” Yuuri trailed off as he stumbled toward the toilet, then abruptly slipped and nearly cracked his chin on the counter—would have, if Victor hadn’t been there.

“I’ll just turn my back and wait for you, shall I?”

Yuuri said nothing, but Victor knew his guest was mortified by his condition. Victor wished there were a way to explain how little he was bothered by it, that outside of a little shock over how their kiss had ended, this had still been one of the best evenings he’d had in years. Vomit included. Well, he definitely wouldn’t say anything about the vomit, if he were trying to explain how he felt.

It was possible Victor was still quite drunk himself. And tired. He’d been up since four, running Yakov and Lilia around town, and then the French distributor.

Huh. Maybe he was an Uber driver after all.

“I’m finished.”

Victor startled out of his reverie. “Oh—sorry, I never got you your…shorts.” 

His voice cracked as he took in the sight of Yuuri in his black boxer briefs and nothing else—technically he had seen this view already, as had everyone at the party. But Victor hadn’t been this close then. And he hadn’t been about to tuck Yuuri into his own bed.

“I can wear this to bed. It’s fine. But I can sleep on your couch.”

“You’ll be sleeping in my bed.” Victor wasn’t having any argument on that point. He guarded his heart and did his best to keep his tone light as he added, “It’s up to you whether or not you sleep alone. Quite obviously we’ll only be sleeping, but I understand if you’d rather have your own space. My couch is very comfortable.” It wasn’t. It was terrible, and seven inches too short, but he’d die before he admitted this.

Yuuri’s hand gripped Victor’s elbow. He was too exhausted to lift his head now, but that grip was iron-tight. “You will not sleep on the couch.”

Victor couldn’t help it. His grin was as wide as his face. “Perfect. We’ll sleep in the bed together.” He put his arm around Yuuri. “Lets get you into it, though, because I think you’re going to pass out standing up before too long.”

Yuuri leaned heavily into him as they left the bathroom and crossed the room. “When I left home, it was Thursday.”

“It’s still Thursday.”

“But my flight was thirteen hours. Nonstop. It’s Friday in Tokyo. I was supposed to sleep on the plane. I didn’t. I didn’t sleep the night before, either, because I was nervous.”

Victor kissed the side of his head. “Will you sleep now, in my bed? Look. Makkachin is already waiting for you.”

Indeed, his dog was sitting up on the covers, wagging his tail and beaming at Yuuri. Yuuri smiled and ruffled his fur. “Does he usually sleep with you?”

“Yes, when I’m home. He won’t know what to do, having two people to cuddle for a change.”

Victor realized what he’d just admitted, that he didn’t usually bring men home, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing to have done. Either it was good or Yuuri was too tired to care, because he only collapsed into the mattress and wrapped his arms around Makkachin, who snuggled up against him as if he did so every night.

Victor’s heart caught at how good, how right the scene appeared.

He cleared his throat. “I’m going to the garage to get your things. Did you need any of your medication tonight? Yuuri?”

“Mmm?” Yuuri opened a sleepy eye, smiled as Makkachin licked his face, then shook his head. “No. Thank you.”

Then he settled into the pillow, hugged Victor’s dog tighter, and went to sleep.

Victor watched him for a few minutes, telling himself he was making sure he was all right to leave alone, but of course mostly he was drinking in the sight, which was beautiful and perfect and incredibly, terribly dangerous. Then he put on his shirt and shoes, grabbed his keys, and headed to the parking garage.

Yuuri had a surprisingly small amount of luggage for someone traveling from a foreign country, which meant, Victor assumed, he didn’t intend to stay long. He told himself, once he was back in the apartment and opening it up, that it was all right to this because he needed to hang up Yuuri’s suits so they didn’t wrinkle worse than they already were, to find his medications and have them ready for the morning. Of course he was also snooping, which was why he was so disappointed to find absolutely nothing of interest.

So he did the next best thing: he opened his laptop and got on the internet.

It took ten seconds to bury himself in more information about Katuski Yuuri than he could hope to read in a lifetime. He felt ridiculous for not hearing of the man before, because apparently he was a living legend. In addition to those two bronze Olympic medals, he had drawers full of other medals of all colors and levels, for competitions Victor hadn’t even known existed. There was video of him too, and his performances were unreal. Victor’s body hurt just watching the man leap across the ice. 

He couldn’t stop watching, though. He was exhausted and needed to go to sleep, but he was glued to the screen, watching video and glancing occasionally at his bed to acknowledge the man in question was, in fact, now in Victor’s bed. No wonder he could swing around a pole like that. He could also apparently bend backwards and skate in circles around the ice, then pop up, spin and leap four times in the air. _Madness_. 

God, he was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. A stunning athlete. Why, Victor wondered, had he left the sport? Why wasn’t he still competing, or at least coaching? Why was he here in New York with no one to help him, huddling in bad suits?

Then Victor Googled some more…and found his answer.

The injury had been years ago now, but it was still in the news in Japan, apparently. In fact it was Yuuri’s second injury, but this one was the career-ending one. It broke Victor’s heart, because he could see, in the press photos, how it had destroyed more than the bones in Yuuri’s hip. An invisible injury, they said—he could still technically perform, but if he landed on his hip again on the ice in competition, he would never walk another step. And so Yuuri was done.

The press clearly had a field day with it, wanted to make Yuuri their grounded celebrity, but Yuuri equally clearly wanted no part of it. He was the heir to the Katsuki Corporation, which made him press-worthy on those grounds alone, but add _former skating star_ and he likely couldn’t step outside his door without being interviewed. And now Victor understood why Yuuri, who hated dealing with people, was in New York, seeking employment among strangers.

Katsuki Corporation. Victor frowned. Why did that sound so familiar?

He Googled that too, but it didn’t help much, only showed him the profile of a prominent Japanese corporation. The thought kept nagging at him, though, and so Victor logged onto the Rostelecom Enterprises server to see if they’d ever had any dealings with Katsuki Corp. It was likely they had, as they were both fairly large entities, but…

His breath caught, and now it was his stomach threatening to send him to the toilet as he read the third line item in the search results.

_Katsuki Corporation - request for interview of CEO son Yuuri Katsuki. Favor/exchange for Nihama matter. Skills unknown. Assumed low. Giacometti researching. Consider placing him in translation or hotel management._

Victor put his hand over his mouth. He kept reading the line over and over, unable to believe what he was reading. Finally he broke the spell by shutting the laptop, but in the same movement he scooped up his phone, stalked to his balcony, and went outside. He stood with his back to the rail, gaze on Yuuri in case he woke as he let the phone ring and ring, determined to stand there until hell froze over or Chris picked up.

Twenty rings later, Chris answered with a bleary sigh. “I assume you’ve figured it out?”

Victor spoke in French, just in case Yuuri woke and could hear him through the glass. “ _No one met him at the airport._ He barely speaks English. It’s a thirteen hour flight. He was stranded in midtown. His hotel was a fucking flop house. He very nearly went back to Japan, and I can’t say I blame him. What the _fuck_ , Chris?”

“I’m aware of how badly this was handled, and I’ve already fired two people over it and sent apologies to Mr. Katsuki back in Japan.”

“And what of Mr. Katsuki here in the States?”

“Well, at the moment, I assume he’s asleep in your bed and unable to come to the phone? There’s also a new wrinkle, one I wanted to discuss with you, my dear, before we proceed. How exactly do you want to explain yourself and your position to this fine gentleman? Do you want him to know you’re the grandson of the owner of the corporation that just treated him badly—and between you and me, Victor, isn’t done treating him poorly, because they think he’s a millstone—or do you want to be the Uber driver/peon distantly associated with said company?”

“I certainly don’t want to lie to him.”

“Very well. Then when he wakes up, after you explain who you are, you can either tell him there’s a delay and they haven’t worked out what to do with him yet so it’ll be another week, or you can wait for me to do it.”

Victor sank to the floor of the balcony. “ _Christ._ ”

“Indeed. Now. If I may, I anticipated this phone call from you, and I’ve thought of a potential workaround.”

“I don’t want to lie to him. It’ll only backfire in the end, no matter what good it might do in the meantime.”

“Fair enough. I can help you out there, but you’re going to have to go with selective truths. And of course at any time you can confess everything to him, but in the meantime, here’s my suggestion for how to proceed.”

Victor listened. He still felt queasy, but less alarmingly so. When Chris finished, he put his head in his hand and sighed. “I suppose it’s the best I can do. I don’t like it, but…”

“If you tell him the truth, he’ll be on the first plane to Japan?”

Victor looked through the window at Yuuri and Makkachin, sleeping so peacefully together. “Maybe I should let him go. He doesn’t deserve this. No one does.”

“How much did you learn about him before you called me?”

“The figure skating, the injury. The press that wouldn’t leave him alone.”

“Did you find out about the depression? Or the suicide attempt?”

Victor sat upright, his heart clenching. “ _What_?”

“They buried those details fairly well, so it’s not surprising you didn’t see them. But they’re in my files. I don’t think I should show you those, if you’re interested in trying to date him, but in the interest of painting you a full picture…don’t imagine they sent him out of Japan lightly. He needed a change of venue.

Victor’s soul ached. _I have medication._ Oh, Yuuri. 

He stood, gripping the phone tighter, his gaze never leaving the bed now, full of dog and man. He thought of everything they’d been through that night, thought of how embarrassed Yuuri was going to be when he woke. “I still don’t know about lying to him. I think it’s a mistake.”

“If you decide you want to tell him the truth, let me know, and I’ll back you up in whatever way you need. I’m with you on this.”

Victor couldn’t help a smile. “Here I thought you’d resent him because he beat you at pole dancing.”

“He didn’t beat me. That was a draw.”

Victor laughed. 

Rain began to fall, soaking him lightly, reminding him how weary he was. “I need to go, darling. I’ll speak to you tomorrow?”

“Of course. And Victor? Good luck.”

By the time Victor shed his clothes and crawled into the bed beside Makkachin and Yuuri, the rain was a steady patter on the window. His mind had been a whirlwind as he got ready for bed, but now that he lay inside the duvet, surrounded by the scent of dog and Yuuri, sleep overtook him quickly.

But before he drifted off, he found Yuuri’s hand, laced their fingers together.

He smiled as he felt Yuuri squeeze right back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kind of a fuck of a day. I would like to thank this chapter for stopping an anxiety attack. that is neither a euphemism nor a lie.
> 
> So this keeps taking turns I didn't expect, and this chapter went several directions I did not at all anticipate, which is fine, but has me pondering things now. I also am wondering how long this is going to be. Initially I thought 14k which is obviously not the case, but now I'm thinking more like 30 or 40. But who knows. All I know is I just got a week of Victuuri dates and I am not complaining.
> 
> I also am going to be done editing sometime next week (I would like it to be this week, please) and then I'm going to fanfic my goddamned heart out. That and write a blurb for Antisocial. Lord almighty I don't want to write a blurb.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay it gets slightly angsty but chill, it's for a good cause. more at the end notes.

Yuuri woke to face full of dog breath and dog kisses, neither of which did anything for his raging headache. “ _Vicchan,_ ” he groaned, and turned away, burying himself deeper under the futon.

But he was met with the heavy thud of unfamiliar paws on his shoulder, not the soft patter and whine of his Vicchan climbing over his head. Yuuri opened his eyes, confused, and saw daylight through unfamiliar bedding. Which had an unfamiliar smell.

Then he remembered. He was in New York. He’d had trouble with his hotel. 

He’d met Victor.

This was Victor’s bed.

Rolling onto his back, Yuuri glanced carefully over his shoulder, unsure if he wanted to see Victor lying beside him or not, in the end both disappointed and relieved to find himself alone. Well—alone as a relative term. Victor’s dog had snuggled in beside him, burrowing under the covers.

A familiar voice called out to the dog in Russian, speaking in an insistent whisper. When Yuuri turned toward the sound and saw Victor framing the doorway, dressed and ready for the day, Victor smiled apologetically and switched to Japanese. “Ah, I’m sorry. I see he’s already woken you.”

“It’s all right.” Yuuri ruffled Makkachin’s head and pushed himself onto his elbows, though he immediately winced and clutched at his head.

“This is why I wanted him to let you sleep.” Victor sat on the edge of the bed and passed Yuuri the glass of water sitting on the bedside table. “Here. Have some water. Do you feel like eating, or not yet?”

Yuuri sipped at the water and considered the state of his stomach. It was both unstable and empty at the same time. “Maybe?” His cheeks heated as he thought of what a burden he had been on Victor already, and he wondered how long his host had been waiting for him to wake and leave him alone. “But I’ll be fine. If I can trouble you for use of your shower, I’ll be on my way.”

Victor looked startled, then smoothed his expression into amusement. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware you had an appointment today.”

Yuuri was not in the mood for teasing, not with this headache. “I’ve been a burden on you long enough, Victor. I won’t trouble you any longer.”

“You won’t leave, I hope, without doing me the honor of having breakfast with me. Some tea and toast, and some conversation? After you have a long soak in my tub.”

Memories of the night before were leaking like treacle into Yuuri’s brain, and combined with his headache were making a terrible stew of mortification and exquisite pain. “Please—thank you for your hospitality, but I cannot stay.”

He couldn’t bear to meet Victor’s gaze, but he couldn’t escape the disappointment in his tone. “Of course I can’t make you remain here. I do, however, have two conditions before you leave. One, I have something I discovered after you went to sleep last night which I feel it’s important you know. Second, wherever you arrange to go from here, I ask that you let me drive you there.”

Yuuri did _not_ want to talk with Victor. That was the entire point. Because he could not believe he _actually had pole danced at his party._ Why had no one stopped him? Who was the mad fool who had danced _with_ him?

_Victor danced with you too…_

Yuuri sat up as straight as he could. He still couldn’t look Victor in the eye, but he managed as far as the middle of his chest. “Thank you for your concern, but there truly is no need.”

“I didn’t say the requests were for you, Yuuri-san.” Victor rose with a wink. “I’ll make that tea. You remember where the bathroom is?”

And there was another memory coming back that Yuuri didn’t want. “Yes.”

Makkachin kept barking at the door, so Yuuri opened it and let him come inside while he filled the tub. It was quite a large tub, complete with whirlpool jets, but Yuuri only cared about the hot water. While he waited for it to fill, he rubbed Makkachin’s head, though before long Victor came in with tea and toast on a tray. The tea was even green, and a grateful sip told him it was properly prepared.

“I can take him out, if he’s bothering you,” Victor said, but he smiled and sat on the toilet seat so he could ruffle the dog’s back while Yuuri saw to the front. 

Yuuri forgot to be mortified, for a moment. “He’s not. He’s a sweet dog. He’s just like mine that I lost, only four times as large.”

“I’ll ache when I lose him. I hope he’s not bringing back too many bittersweet memories for you?”

“Some bittersweetness in life is acceptable, so long as it isn’t overwhelming.” Yuuri laughed as Makkachin tried to give him thank you kisses for all the head rubs. “Is he this friendly with everyone?”

“He’s always friendly, yes. But he’s exceptionally so with you.” Victor rose, giving his dog one last pet. “I’ll make a proper breakfast, in hopes that your tea and toast put your stomach in a better mood.”

The tea, toast, and bath combined did do quite a bit to put Yuuri to rights, and once he was out of the bath and climbing into his clothes, he did feel like he might be able to eat something after all. He’d also done quite a bit of thinking in the tub, however, and once he had a pair of jeans on, he squared his shoulders, dug his Japanese phone out of his suit coat pocket and the instructions for how to change the SIM card out of his briefcase. Then he closed the door to Victor’s bedroom, swapped the card with an ease that made him embarrassed to have waited this long to have tried, and called Phichit.

He was shocked when his friend not only answered on the first ring but exploded in some kind of incoherent, tearful joy. “Yuuri! Yuuri, I was so worried when you never checked in, and then I called the hotel and found out about the mistake and the murder and I called your father and I thought he was going to fire me and then the Rostelecom people called and apologized but said it was fine because they had you, but I thought how, and who the hell has you and what’s going on—”

“ _Phichit._ ” Yuuri’s head was pounding all over again. “Phichit, slow down. I’m fine. I had a little adventure, and I think I embarrassed myself in front of my rescuer, but he’s being very nice about it, so it might be fine, if I can swallow my pride. Plus he has the sweetest dog.” Yuuri forced himself back on track. “But what are you talking about, the Rostelecom people called you?”

“Yes—they were supposed to meet you at the airport, which was what I _thought_ , and then there was the mix up with your hotel, which was our fault, but it didn’t help. But I still don’t understand where you _are_ , Yuuri. Did they put you up somewhere?”

Yuuri didn’t understand either. “I didn’t meet anyone from Rostelecom. I—” He realized how awkward this was going to sound, but there was no getting around it. “I…went home with my Uber driver.”

He blushed scarlet during the stunned silence over the international line.

“…Yuuri,” Phichit said at last, whether in censure or awe, it was hard to say. Possibly both.

“It was a complicated situation. There were gunshots as he was trying to drop me off at my hotel, which was a terrible hotel, by the way. And then…then there was vodka. And then there was some kind of party where…where things begin to get hazy, but I believe I had some champagne to calm my nerves.”

“Oh no.”

 _Oh, yes._ Yuuri turned his gaze to the ceiling, his whole body hot even with dim memory. “I’m afraid someone may have challenged me to a dance off.”

“ _Oh my god._ ” Phichit laughed.

“It’s not funny! These were Victor’s coworkers, and I made an idiot of myself in front of them. I’m terrified I may have gotten him fired.”

“Who’s Victor?”

“The…Uber driver. This was his other job. Apparently he drives as a side thing.” The thought that Yuuri might have damaged Victor’s employment weighed so heavily on him, he wasn’t sure how to function. “Phichit, I have to go out into the other room and face him. I wanted to apologize and leave, but he wants to talk. And drive me to wherever I’m going.”

“Where _are_ you going? Because there aren’t any other hotels in Manhattan. Plus I still don’t understand, because to hear Rostelecom’s secretary talk, you’re with their people. They’re talking like they’re housing you now. They told your father not to worry about it.”

That didn’t make any sense at all. “I’m telling you, Phichit, I haven’t met them.”

“What’s the name of your Victor’s employer? What party were you at last night? Did you meet them there, maybe, while you were drunk?”

Dear god, Yuuri hoped not. “I don’t know any names. I only remember…Chris someone. And another Yuri. And his friend who was the DJ. Ota-something.”

Phichit gasped. Then swore in three Asian languages.

Yuuri blinked and pulled the phone briefly away from his ear. “Phichit?”

“Yuuri.” Phichit was speaking in Thai now. “Are you alone in the room? Answer in Thai. He might know Chinese, but he wouldn’t know Thai.”

What in the world…? “I’m alone, and the door is closed. _Phichit—”_

“Is your _Uber_ driver’s name Victor Nikiforov?”

Yuuri’s jaw practically fell into his lap. “How did you know that?”

“Because the party you were at last night was a Rostelecom party. Because that ‘Chris Someone’ is Christophe Giacometti, one of the junior vice presidents. The other Yuri is Yuri Plisetsky, son of one of the senior vice presidents. And your Victor—” Phichit’s laugh was bitter. “He’s the grandson of the founder of the company. His father is the current CFO.”

Yuuri couldn’t breathe, not until Makkachin whined and nudged his knee. Hand shaking, he rubbed the dog’s fur and tried to make the world make sense. “But…he was my Uber driver.” He replayed the scene outside the coffee shop again, trying to find the setup…and knew it was impossible. That had been a random meet. 

Hadn’t it?

All Victor’s outrage over Yuuri’s treatment by his potential employer…had that been at his expense?

“This doesn’t make sense,” Yuuri whispered, his chest tightening.

“No, it doesn’t. There’s information here we don’t have, somewhere. I don’t know how to hunt it down, though. But I have a feeling I know what Victor wants to talk to you about.”

Yuuri didn’t. “What could he possibly have to say?” Oh, his heart hurt so much. He would so much have rather to have left simply feeling embarrassed, not betrayed.

“A lot. Your father is already uneasy, and when I go back to him and report what you’ve just told me, he’s going to call off the whole thing, and they want this deal. You can bet Victor Nikiforov’s whole job is to kiss your—”

“ _Stop_.”

Another pause, this one guilty. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. You…liked him. Oh…oh hell, Yuuri, I’m sorry. I’ll go tell your dad—”

“ _No._ ” Yuuri swallowed the pit in his stomach and pushed his feelings aside, something he’d gotten quite adept at doing. “Don’t tell him anything. I need to go have a conversation right now.”

“ _Yuuri—_ ”

“Phichit. Stop fussing. It’s going to be fine.” That, Yuuri feared, was a bald-faced lie, but he had to get his friend calm enough to escape the phone.

Phichit didn’t sound convinced. “You’ll call me later and report back?”

“I promise.”

Yuuri took a moment to collect himself once he was off the phone, shutting his eyes as he received a few dog kisses from Makkachin. When he realized there wasn’t going to be any golden moment of feeling centered, he rose, gathered what pride he could manage, and went to find Victor.

He hung back in the doorway of the kitchenette, trying to justify the bright, elegant, slightly silly man before him with someone who could be so calculating as to do what Phichit had claimed he had. Yuuri’s plan had been to come out and confront him, but now he wondered if he should see what Victor would do, what he would say. Would he truly try to keep Yuuri here at all costs, or would he let him go? 

Yuuri decided it would be interesting to see what happened if he didn’t let it be known that he knew more than he was meant to understand.

Victor smiled when he saw Yuuri, the same polite smile from when he’d brought tea to the bathroom. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Much, thank you.”

“Good, good.” Victor gestured to a pair of bar stools. “Have a seat. I’m making crepes. Would you like more tea?”

Yuuri sat. “Please, thank you.”

Was it Yuuri’s imagination, or did Victor’s hand shake as he poured?

Victor said nothing more, only went back to his cooking, and Yuuri let his gaze wander around the apartment. He lingered on a photo on a nearby shelf of a young boy with long silver hair wearing a blue flower crown in a ballet pose. In fact he had ballet shoes on as well. This was clearly a shoot in costume from a performance. “Who is in the photo? A relative of yours?”

Victor laughed sadly and shook his head. “It’s me.”

Eyes widening, Yuuri picked up the photo and examined it more closely. Sure enough, the photo did look like Victor, now that his attention was called to it. “Victor, you were stunning. Where did you perform?”

“A ballet company in Paris. Not one you’d have heard of, but it was decent enough. I _wanted_ to do ballet in the States, or London, or continue in Paris. But that was not something Victor Nikiforov was allowed to do.”

No, Yuuri wasn’t imagining the shaking. “So when you told me you could beat me in the dance battle, you were serious. And you let me win?”

“Hmm…I think _sober_ , it would be a draw. But I was also distracted. I wanted…” The spatula in his hand clattered to the floor. “Forgive me,” he said, bending to pick it up.

Except though Yuuri waited, Victor didn’t resurface.

“Victor?” Yuuri stood, saw Victor’s feet, and panicked. “ _Victor_.” 

He hurried around the corner and found Victor sitting against the cupboards, even paler than usual, hands pressed to his cheeks. 

Victor’s sad, guilty gaze met Yuuri’s. Then he nodded at the stove. “The crepes are burning.”

Yuuri switched the burner off, moved the pan to the back, and knelt on the floor in front of Victor. 

And waited.

Shutting his eyes, Victor ran a hand through his silver hair. He looked as if he hadn’t slept. Perhaps he hadn’t. “I can’t decide if you know something, or if I’m paranoid. Which, either way, it’s ridiculous. It’s my job, to make people happy. To smooth things over. I’m good at my job. Except this is the trouble. I didn’t think you were a job, Yuuri.” He sighed and tipped his head against the cabinet, but he kept his eyes closed. “It’s all gotten very complicated, but this much I tried to tell you several times last night, but there never seemed to be a good moment. I’m not an Uber driver. You simply climbed into the back seat of my car, and you were handsome, so I didn’t stop you.”

Yuuri straightened, blinked—and blushed. “ _Eh_?”

Victor opened one eye and gave him a weary wink. “I thought you asked if I wanted to be your lover. I’d never been propositioned by a shy, nervous Japanese man. Of course, I was a little terrified when you actually got into my vehicle, but shortly after that I figured out what I’d misheard, and then I was so embarrassed I decided I should _be_ an Uber driver. And then your hotel was a disaster, and…well. You know the rest.” 

His smile died. “Except once you were in bed, I couldn’t sleep, and I wanted to know more about you, so I looked you up online. And then your last name seemed familiar, so I looked to see if my family’s company had ever done business with yours. Which is when I discovered it was _my_ lousy company who had failed to retrieve you from the airport. And then when I called to ask what was going on, they…” Victor’s face screwed up in anguish. “God, I don’t even know how to untangle this.”

 _They what?_ Yuuri still said nothing. But his cheeks were still red at the idea that he’d climbed into a stranger’s car, a stranger who had _thought he’d been propositioned._

Honestly, how many strangers did Victor take home? Was that line about Makkachin not used to two people in the bed another lie?

If this was a performance, however, it was an incredibly skillful one. Victor’s anguish seemed genuine as he threw up his hands. “Christophe came up with this plan so I could not tell you everything, so you wouldn’t make assumptions about me, and it made so much sense at three in the morning, but I’ve gone over and over it since then and I don’t think it protects me or you. I think it protects—well.” He put both hands in his hair now. He was decidedly not meeting Yuuri’s gaze. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve decided I’m simply going to tell you the truth. Which you may or may not believe. And you may hate me, which will…make me quite sad. To put it mildly. But I’ll keep to my word. After I’ve said what I have to say, I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

Victor looked miserable, lost, defeated. And Yuuri decided he wasn’t going to keep silent and watch the man flounder any longer.

He held out a hand to Victor. “Let me help you up.” Victor was still shaky as they stood, but Yuuri pretended everything was fine, that it was normal to tuck his arm int Victor’s as he led him to the stove. “Hmm. I think the crepes are okay?”

Victor scowled at pan. “No, I ruined them.”

Yuuri pulled at the edge of the one nearest him. “Oh no, they’re good. They only were jostled a bit when I shifted the pan. Here. Bring me two plates.”

He took a clean spatula from the drawer beside the stove and plated the food, arranging it as nicely as he could with the strawberries Victor had held in reserve, finishing it off with some whipped cream and a last cherry on top. Victor’s haggard expression broke as he saw the food.

“Are you a genius in the kitchen as well as on the ice?”

“No, that’s my mother. We have a small onsen resort in Hasetsu she keeps as a hobby, but she scandalizes everyone by going into the kitchen and doing the cooking herself. She says she can’t resist a commercial kitchen. You should try her katsudon.”

“I would love to.” But now Victor looked sad again. “Well. Would you like to eat?”

“The tea you made for me is very good,” Yuuri said as they sat. 

“Oh—would you like some more?” Victor rose.

“No, wait until you’re done eating!”

Victor ignored him, putting the kettle on and opening a tin of tea leaves. “I’d like some myself, so it’s no trouble.”

Yuuri cut into his crepe while he watched Victor go through the motions of preparing tea. “It’s a very good crepe.”

“Thank you. Christophe, the man you pole-danced with last night, taught me to make them when we were in college.”

Yuuri paused with his fork half-way to his mouth. “Did…did I cause you trouble, dancing like that? Did I cause Chris trouble?”

Victor glanced at him with the tea container still in his hand. “What? Oh, no. Heavens, no. The only three people there who could have gotten anyone in trouble were Yakov, Lilia, and Chris, and Chris was the one with his pants off. Plus at this point I think Lilia and Yakov are used to it.”

“People usually strip to their underwear at your parties?”

“Ah, no. But they do find other ways to make scenes. This was simply a fun one for a change. Plus you charmed everyone. Mila and Sara want to take you shopping.”

Shopping? Yuuri tried to remember who Mila and Sara were, but he didn’t remember meeting them. 

Victor poured the water from the kettle into the teapot and brought it and two cups around to the seating area. “So, I’ve told you the first part, that I’m not an Uber driver. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I just couldn’t seem to find the right moment.”

Yuuri would die inside for the rest of his life whenever he thought of that mistake, and he would never take Uber again. “Why didn’t you correct me right away?”

“I told you. I misheard you.”

Here Yuuri refused to carry the blame alone. “And you let anyone who asks to be your lover into your car?”

Victor poked at his crepe. “No, I do not. But you…you…” He let his fork clatter to the plate, shut his eyes, and tented his hands over his nose, bowing his head in embarrassment. “You were handsome, lost, beautiful, and lonely. And…”

Yuuri felt like someone had turned him inside out, but he wasn’t stopping now. He _would_ hear he end of this. “And?”

“And it a wistful moment of fancy, you looked at me like I often feel, and I couldn’t stop myself.”

Yuuri blushed scarlet. He was both flattered and horrified at once. “And so you let a stranger into your car? That’s completely dangerous. Do you behave in business this way as well?”

“You’re the first stranger I’ve let into my car, for the record—normally I don’t have time for those kinds of games, nor the inclination. But yes, my moments of fancy have gotten me in as much trouble as they have given me rewards. I don’t regret anything, though, because last night was wonderful. I don’t know when I’ve had such a fantastic time.”

“I nearly vomited on you.”

Victor shrugged. “But then you slept with me and my dog. You look like an angel when you sleep, by the way.”

Yuuri poured the tea so he didn’t have to think about Victor studying him in his sleep. “What was it you were supposed to tell me, what Chris told you to say?”

“That I work for Rostelecom, that he recognized your name when you told him last night, which was true. That I’ve been given a few days off to get you settled in a new place and that I’ll help you find it. Your interview has been delayed, so I was supposed to help distract from that and ease that blow. They still want you to interview, and they want to keep your family happy so the deal goes through. They very much want the deal to happen. But Chris knew I liked you, so he wanted me to be selective in how I talked to you about it, to play a role. Which is usually what I do. I don’t have a particular job title or an exact position at Rostelecom. I simply appear when summoned and make problems go away by talking them to death and smoothing them out of existence.”

Yuuri put his fork down. “Is that what I am? Another problem?”

“To Roselecom? Yes. But not to me. Which is why I don’t know how to say what I want to say, because I feel like you won’t believe me or trust me, because of who I am, even if I tell you what _I_ want to happen, what _I_ want to do, and what I think of you.”

Yuuri’s heart swelled, groaning nervously. “And who are you, Victor? What do you want? What do you think of me?”

He sipped his tea, then held the cup in both hands, staring into the warm depths. “I don’t simply work for Rostelecom. I’m being groomed to take my grandfather’s place in the company someday. Which I know makes it appear as if I somehow sought you out, that I was there at the coffee shop to cover our mistake in not meeting you at the airport. But it truly was a chance meeting. Fate, I like to think, because I want to believe in those sorts of things. And—” His fingers curled around the cup. “And soul mates. People you simply see and…know. That they’re who you belong to.”

Oh, this was so dangerous. “I see.”

“What _I_ want from you isn’t the same as what the company wants. I don’t…” He tapped his fingers on the side of his cup. “It’s not that I don’t think the merger with Katsuki is important, but I don’t know all the details of it. It’s not my department. And despite everyone’s efforts to turn me into my grandfather, I’m _not_ him. I don’t have a head for this. It should be Mila, but she’s a woman and my grandfather is old-fashioned. I’ve grown to enjoy what I do, most of the time, but…” 

He let go of the mug and tightened his hand into a fist. Yuuri glanced at him and saw Victor’s eyes were closed, his face contorted in frustration and some kind of resigned grief.

It took a great deal of effort for Yuuri not to reach out and put his hand on top of Victor’s. “What do you want from me, Victor?”

Victor let out a sigh and put his hand on the table beside Yuuri’s, palm flat against the marble dining top. “I want to get to know you. The man who drank me under the table and grabbed my tie as he blackmailed me into handing over the bill. The man who was solicitous to me when he thought I was of significantly lower social status than he was. The man who came all this way and braved wild conditions on behalf of his family and himself, seeking a new start.” His leg pressed against Yuuri’s beneath the countertop. “I want to know the man who skated so beautifully for so long, who had to stop and yet has carried on. The man who made me dance for the first time in years. Who fell in love with my dog and let her sit in the bathroom with him while he got ready. The one who is still listening to me even now instead of rushing off, indignant, and telling his father to never do business with us again. As for what I think of you? I think you’re beautiful. Charming. Loyal. Proud, but not to a fault. Strong. Perceptive. Intuitive. There’s a quietness about you that settles me. But you have steel about you too. A quiet steel. I would like to learn more about all these qualities. I would like to hear your stories. I’d like to have you stay here, with me, in my condo. I want to be with you as much as possible, because—” He stopped, closing his lips tightly and putting a hand over his mouth.

Yuuri took a moment to get over his breathlessness, then shook his head. “Go on. Why do you want to be with me?”

“It’s ridiculous. I sound like a lovesick schoolboy.”

“I was too busy with my studies and skating to be a lovesick schoolboy, or to notice anyone pining for me. Indulge me, please, Victor.”

“Very well.” Victor huffed, then leaned back in his stool, shutting his eyes and tipping his face toward the ceiling. “Because being with you has made me realize how empty my life has been since they began grooming me for my grandfather’s job. I haven’t had life or love for almost twenty years. Even my dancing felt empty towards the end. And now here you are, making me feel…alive. Selfishly, I don’t want it to stop. I can be arrogant and tell myself it’s the same for you, that I’m helping you, but I know better than to use that lie. So I’m telling you all my truths. You may do with them what you like. I will give you anything you want—anything.”

Yuuri ran his thumb along the handle of his fork. “Even if I ask you to take me to the airport and let me go to Japan?”

He nodded, shoulders rounding forward. “Yes. Even if you ask for that.”

“But if I ask for other things, even slightly strange things…?”

“I will move heaven and earth to give you whatever you want. Especially if you tell me you’re staying in New York.”

Yuuri stroked the fork some more, stared into his crepes, which he’d barely eaten. A strawberry had slid down a  river of cream and now sat in a puddle of white, waiting to be rescued. Yuuri scooped it up gingerly and regarded it as he chose the words for his response.

“Then I have two things to say. One is a message with a series of requirements for whoever you’re reporting to at Rostelecom.”

Victor straightened and cleared his throat, bracing his arms on the countertop. “Yes. I’m ready to hear your request.”

“It’s more of a set of terms, I’m afraid. You see, I already knew who you were. I spoke to my father’s assistant and my best friend before I came out here for breakfast, and he put together what had happened. He was ready to bring me home and tell my father to call off the entire deal.”

Victor winced, but he didn’t seem too upset. “It’s their own fault for not sending someone to meet you, for not taking this seriously. I could tell from the interviews I read last night how much your family cares for you. My grandfather and Chris misread this situation badly.”

“Yes…well, I told Phichit not to act yet. I said I wanted to speak to you myself first, to hear your side of the story. And now I have. I’m willing to stay, but there are conditions. The first and most important is that they are no longer interviewing me. It’s very much the other way around.”

Victor smiled, pressing his index finger to his lips. “Oh. I like this.”

Hearing Victor was on his side in this made Yuuri feel much better, and made him bolder. “I’ll give them as much time as they need to prepare a proper presentation for me of what positions they have to offer with what salary and benefits packages, but in the meantime, I am in need of assistance while I am in New York. You’ve heard my English and seen me attempt to navigate the city. And of course I require somewhere to stay, and some kind of transportation to get from here to there.”

Victor’s eyes sparkled now, and he was practically bouncing on his seat. “ _Yes_. I have ideas on what positions might be good for you, and I’ll tell them, but I can help you find somewhere to stay and someone to—”

Yuuri held up a hand. “I already know who I want to show me around. In fact I am hoping I already have somewhere to stay.” He lowered his hand, letting it rest so close to Victor’s on the countertop that their fingers touched. “I would like you to be my escort, Victor Nikiforov. For the entirety of my stay, until I leave or take a position with your company.”

Victor said nothing for several seconds. Then he cleared his throat. “May I make a request for a small suggestion in your demand?”

“Mmm,” Yuuri said, unwilling to commit to a yes or a no, but curious to hear what Victor had to say.

Victor shifted his hand so that his fingers rested over Yuuri’s. “Will you please phrase that as, ‘I insist Victor Nikiforov be my escort for the entirety of my stay, and for the sake of convenience, I’ll stay at his place with him,’?”

Yuuri smiled and turned his hand over so that their palms touched one another, their fingers lacing together. “Yes.”

“Good. I’ll inform Chris he’ll need to find someone else to handle my schedule for the next few weeks. And see, you’ve made an honest man of me, Yuuri.” He squeezed Yuuri’s hand. “I’m going to be your driver after all.”

Victor’s kiss burned Yuuri’s cheek, and he resisted the urge to touch his skin. “I’m quite serious that Rostelecom is the one who needs to impress me at this point, not the other way around. And if they believe I’m simply a mousy former skater, they will be sorely surprised.”

“I have no doubt you will leave us all astounded.” He paused, then added. “I shouldn’t say this, as I’m not helping my own cause, but why are you staying? My family has made a hash of this. You would be right to end the deal and go home.”

Yuuri let out a breath and decided he was due a bit of lovesick schoolboy too. “Because of you, Victor.”

There was silence in the kitchenette for a moment as Yuuri’s confession rang out.

“Ahh,” Victor said at last, breaking it gently, and cooled Yuuri’s burning cheek with a gentle, lingering kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo... *tucks in*
> 
> I was 1/3 of the way into this scene and I hit the "WTFH ARE YOU DOING point with the characters, which is pretty much on schedule for me, except I was largely thinking, guys, I thought this was a quick funny riff on what would happen if Yuuri thought Victor's car was an Uber, how the hell did we get here and what is this angst and why did you twist into this pretzel and WHAT, exactly, the hell. Then I had a few mental cigarettes (I miss smoking so much) and some tea and realized that oh, no, this fucker wants to be a novel. Then I had another mental cigarette and said, "Make your case," and the story presented to me a series of seriously awesome sequences and I said, "I'm in."
> 
> Now,the problem is normally I write novels and then there's a hot mess of continuity and arc and I go back and fix things. I will not be doing that here, since I am also writing other novels at the same time. Obviously I am fucking insane. But I mean they're going to go shopping. With lesbians. THERE WILL BE FUCKING ICE SKATING LESSONS AND I AM SO PSYCHED I'M HUSTLING MY EDITING SO I CAN GET TO THEM. Also I'm realizing I can be gratuitous and there can be sections were the plot lags and it doesn't matter because it's fanfic and this is free and there is no editor. I feel like I'm painting naked in the park or something. Is this even legal? Am I going to be arrested? I feel like I should be arrested.
> 
> Anyway. This scene exists to turn all the plot bits around. If I were writing this as an actual novel for publication, this scene would be the one that later I would parse out and use to lay seeds earlier in the novel and then throw things out later. I can do the latter but it's going to look weird because there's a bit where you get to this point and go, 'why did she suddenly change this tone/direction a little?' and the answer is, because she is a pantser and you're basically reading the first draft. Usually you have to be a little drunk to read this draft. I hope you can keep up okay. Will keep doing my best.
> 
> Am in crunch time for edits now so it may be next week before I get to update but once I get this bitch (my actual for-production editing novel) turned in I will be writing the fuck out of this and other things because I can. In the meantime, again, watch me reblog YOI stuff and occasionally make comments at @cullinankatsudon on Tumblr, bitch about writing and politics on Twitter at @heidicullinan.com, find me on FB at Heidi Cullinan (I'm wearing a red shirt and currently have a rainbow flag on the bottom), or go to www.heidicullinan.com to see the day job writing. 
> 
> This fic is starting to take on the theme tone of every other damn thing I write, which I suppose makes sense. I'm very much enjoying the experience. And I really, really want to get to all those gratuitous scenes, especially the motherfucking ICE SKATING LESSONS. Mmmhmm.
> 
> Okay I have to go edit now. Later for you.


	5. Chapter 5

If Victor had known someone like Yuuri could upend his family so soundly, he would have sought him out long ago. Of course, after a few days in Yuuri’s company, Victor became convinced there was only one Yuuri in the world, no one else daring to come close. 

The first person at Rostelecom Yuuri toppled was Chris, though technically he’d already given himself a head start at the party. Victor had told to Yuuri he thought everything would be easier if he met Chris and explained the situation in person, and Yuuri had asked if he could come along. “You may have to translate for me, sometimes, but I would like to be there for the meeting.” 

They had finished eating the crepes and were doing the dishes together, Yuuri drying while Victor washed. Victor glanced sideways at his guest, surprised to hear this declaration, but Yuuri only continued to meticulously pass the towel over the the plates and flatware. “Of course. I’d planned to catch him at home today, but did you want to wait until tomorrow and go to the office?”

A ripple passed through Yuuri’s composed persona. “No, I think at home is best.”

Victor wondered whether or not Yuuri felt properly up to the task when he was still under the weather from the night before, but the set in Yuuri’s jaw didn’t allow for any argument. “I’ll set up a meeting with him, then,” and left it at that.

Unsurprisingly, Yuuri withdrew from Victor somewhat as he prepared himself for this meeting, making another phone call to Japan—Victor couldn’t place the language, but he didn’t understand it, was the pertinent point—and changing his clothes again, into another suit. He’d only brought three, Victor couldn’t help noticing, and they were all terrible. The ties were the worst. Victor itched to take the man shopping. The tie he wore to see Chris was a pale blue, of an unremarkable fabric, and while it wasn’t the case that it _didn’t_ go with the charcoal suit Yuuri wore, neither the tie nor the suit improved the other. 

Makkachin chose to remain with Yuuri while he spoke on the phone and got dressed, and he wouldn’t go out for his walk until Yuuri was able to come along. 

“Sorry,” Victor murmured, as the three of them descended the elevator to the small park across from his condo where Makka did his business. “I can’t believe how he’s attached himself to you.”

“It’s all right.” Yuuri scratched behind Makkachin’s ears and smiled at Victor’s dog. “I don’t mind at all.” He glanced up at Victor, his smile twisting into a wry gesture. “Unless _you_ mind?”

“Only a little.” He ruffled Makkachin’s fur too, but as he did so, his fingers brushed Yuuri’s. He didn’t withdraw, but he stilled, and he lifted his gaze. “I…I don’t want to belabor the issue, but I wanted to say, again, that I’m sorry. For the way my family’s company treated you, for…” He trailed off, unsure, once again, of what to say. He tried again. “I want you to know that even if Rostelecom fails your test, I don’t intend to.”

He’d thought that was bold, plain speech and ought to have earned him at least some points, but Yuuri only smiled one of his quiet smiles and went back to petting Makkachin. “You’re quite the romantic, aren’t you, Victor?”

Why did Victor get the sense that with Yuuri, this wasn’t a point in his favor? “I suppose I am. My grandfather has accused me of it often enough.” He knew he should leave it alone, but he couldn’t help himself—another fault, according to his grandfather. “Do you not like romantics?”

Oh, _there_ was a smile, and a shy one at that, one that made the tips of Yuuri’s ears turn pink. “I didn’t say that.”

Victor wanted to make Yuuri blush _more._ “You didn’t say it, but the tone of your voice told me enough. Is it so preposterous that I should have feelings for you?”

It made Victor want to sing, the way Yuuri’s cheeks colored so prettily, so easily, all for _him._ “You don’t know me. It hasn’t even been a full twenty-four hours yet since we met one another.”

“In another two hours it will have been.”

“And those two hours will make all the difference, will they?”

“They might. But even without them, I know enough to know you’re like no one I’ve ever met.”

They’d arrived at the lobby now, and Yuuri said nothing as they passed through it, smiling and nodding to the doorman as he held the door. Once they were on the street, though, crossing to the park, Yuuri spoke again. “What is it you propose is happening between us, exactly? Are you hoping to take me to bed again? Because that I’m already amenable to. I don’t need to be wooed.”

“But what if I wanted to woo you? What if I wanted more than your body?”

It truly was the most perfect blush in the world, the most beautiful Victor had ever seen. “Why do you need more than that? I don’t even know yet that I’m staying for more than a day.”

 _I will do everything in my power to ensure that you do._ “I’m a romantic, remember? If you leave me here alone, pining for you, it’s only another joy.”

Now Yuuri laughed—he still blushed, but he laughed. 

He was more relaxed with Victor too, on the way back up the elevator and when they were in the apartment, and as he waited for Victor to get changed. He became subdued once again as they left to go to Chris’s place on Long Island, however. This time as they got into Victor’s car, Yuuri got into the front seat, adorably demure as Victor held the door for him, but that was all. Once they were in the car together, their company was easy, comfortable.

Though Yuuri hadn’t asked for it, Victor decided to give him some information on what to expect. 

“Chris isn’t the one who made any of the decisions about who failed to meet you at the airport, or what job you were to be offered, but he _is_ the person you’re most likely to interact with from the company, and he’ll speak on their behalf most of the time. He likes to play at being foolish and sometimes even incompetent, but don’t take that seriously. He’s a shrewd negotiator, and it’s his job to maneuver you where he wants you.”

Yuuri glanced sideways at him. “Why are you telling me all this? You’re going against your own company. The one you said you’re meant to take over.”

Victor shrugged. “I wanted you to know.”

“And how can I trust what you tell me?”

It bothered Victor that Yuuri didn’t implicitly trust him, even though of course this was the smarter position to take. He tightened his grip on the wheel and fixed his gaze on the road. “Think what you will, I suppose.”

Yuuri continued to study him. “There’s one thing I’ve wondered about. Why is Rostelecom so eager to do business with my father’s company, to the point that they’d create a job for me, or at pretend to do so?”

How was he meant to answer that? Victor didn’t know all the details, but what he did know, he was certain he wasn’t meant to share with Yuuri. He tried to sift through the truth. “There’s an aspect of business with your family they’re very interested in.”

“Well, that much is obvious.” Yuuri laughed softly and relaxed in his seat. “That’s good, though, to see you have _some_ loyalty.”

Victor sat up straighter. “You—you were testing me?”

“Of course I was. I’m representing the Katsuki Corporation. I don’t have the best head for business, but I have _some_ sense of how to protect our interest.” He smoothed his hands over his thighs. “I think your grandfather is after our Niihama property.”

Victor did everything in his power not to react. “And why do you think that?”

“Because it makes the most sense. Our hotel chain makes money, but the Niihama port has potential for all kinds of activity.” When Victor continued to say nothing, Yuuri grinned. “Are you always this transparent, Victor, with your clients? I can see you trying not to give anything away, but you are, all the same. You’ve all but told me I’m right in my guess.”

Now it was Victor who blushed. “No, in fact, I’m known for surprising those I entertain, and keeping them captivated. And properly distracted.”

“And what is different today?”

 _You’re here. You’re the one I’m trying to charm, but it’s too late, because you’ve already cast some kind of spell on me._ He ran a hand through his hair and said nothing. 

Chris’s house in Long Island was impressive, which was good as it had been bought with such a purpose in mind. Chris’s longtime partner, a lawyer at a downtown Manhattan firm, often entertained, and sometimes Chris brought clients home as well—whoever they brought through the front door, the goal was always to charm and intimidate.

Victor wasn’t sure what kind of lifestyle Yuuri was accustomed to. Being the son of Katsuki Corporation’s CEO said he should be at home in luxurious surroundings; that horrible suit, however, said otherwise. In his attempts to learn more about the man overnight he’d read Yuuri had spent most of his life training as a skater, living at training rinks and traveling the world. It was only recently that he’d spent any time out of that world. 

Would Chris eat him alive? Victor vowed not to let him, company loyalty be damned.

Except they weren’t even five feet inside the door before Yuuri began turning the tables. Chris welcomed them with a cheerful smile and a slight widening of his eyes as he took in Yuuri’s terrible suit—and then Yuuri made a polite bow before presenting Chris with a small paper shopping bag Victor hadn’t realized he’d brought with him.

“Please allow me to present you with this small token of thanks.” 

His English was wooden and clearly rehearsed, but it worked. Chris blinked as he accepted the bag. “Oh—well, thank you very— _oh_ , this is an _excellent_ bottle of sake, _thank you_!”

“It is nothing, truly,” Yuuri said, the line once again rehearsed, but the effect was brilliant. 

Chris led them outside, where the sat with a view of the ocean in the distance, through the trees. He brought them beverages—beer for Victor and himself, tea for Yuuri, who shuddered at the suggestion of more alcohol. Once they were seated, Chris sipped his beer and regarded Yuuri curiously. “I expected to see Victor today, but I admit, I hadn’t anticipated a visit from _you_ , Katsuki. What brings you out to my neck of the woods?”

Yuuri glanced at Victor, then at Chris, then back at Victor again. He frowned, then said in Japanese to Victor, “He speaks too quickly, and with a heavy accent.”

 _Ah_. “He’s Swiss. He said he hadn’t expected you and wondered why you were here.” Now it was Victor who frowned. “My Japanese isn’t exactly at the interpreter level.”

Yuuri waved this objection away and turned back to Chris. “I’m here to make clear my terms for potentially taking a position with Rostelecom. I would appreciate it if you could speak slowly. I speak English, but not well. Unless you speak Japanese, Chinese, or Thai?”

Chris blinked, then laughed, though he seemed stunned to Victor, thrown well off balance. “No, I do not. Only German, French, English, and Russian.” Chris cast a meaningful look at Victor, one that told him he very much wanted a word alone. “But what do you mean, you’re here to make your terms clear regarding your position? I thought you were coming to be interviewed?”

“Yes. About that.” Yuuri tugged at the cuffs of his suit coat. “There seems to have been misunderstandings. I will be interviewing _you_.” He paused, looking rather cool and collected, but Victor knew Yuuri’s English well enough to know he was rehearsing a memorized line again. “I can extend my stay through two weeks, and in that time I’m happy to entertain proposals from you.” He cut a glance to Victor. “I do have one request I’m quite firm on. I require somewhere to stay, however, and an escort around town during my stay. I would like that escort to be Mr. Nikiforov.”

Unsurprisingly, Chris balked. “Listen, Mr. Katsuki—there are about a million things wrong with what you just said, but the idea that you’re going to pull Victor off his job for two weeks to be your lapdog—”

Yuuri turned to Victor. “ _Sumimasen. Wakarimasen._ ”

Except something about the way Yuuri looked at Victor…he was _sure_ , almost completely sure Yuuri _had_ understood. Enough to get the gist, anyway.

_Oh, Yuuri. Everyone has sorely, completely underestimated you._

Victor cleared his throat and tried to remember exactly what Chris had said, to translate it word for word as much as he could. It was difficult. “He said there were many things wrong with what you said, but he was most upset with the idea of taking me off my usual job for two weeks.”

Yuuri nodded and turned back to Chris. “ _Aa, sokka._ You aren’t interested in having me interview you? Very well. I will tell my father this.”

Now Chris sat up, alarmed, and waved his hands. “That’s not what I said. Look, we’ll find you a suitable escort.”

“I have found my own escort.”

Chris began casting increasingly anxious glances at Victor, each one telegraphing, _help me, asshole._ “Victor is a very important person at Rostelecom. He can’t drop everything he’s doing and babysit you.”

“I see. You believe I am _not_ an important person, and that I am…what have you said here? A baby?”

Chris’s face turned red. He aimed a finger at Victor. “Help me out, Nikiforov,” he said in Russian.

Victor held up his hands and refused to say a word.

Yuuri tilted his head to the side, regarding Chris curiously. “Here is what I think. I think Rostelecom wants—” He stopped, then turned to Victor, still speaking in English. “I will need you to translate, please.”

Victor nodded. “Of course.” 

Yuuri switched to Japanese, no longer halting, his voice full of passion and confidence. “Rostelecom only wants one thing from my father and they don’t care how they get it. That my father has allowed this at all speaks to how much he wants me to take a seat in the business world, willing to risk something he otherwise wouldn’t. So I won’t let him down by sitting meekly while Rostelecom dishonors what my father has offered them, nor will I disgrace the chance he’s given me. If Rostelecom refuses what I ask for, I will thank you for this lesson in finding my strength, and I will return to Japan. And my father will withdraw his offer.” He took a breath, then bit the side of his lip, and checked with Victor once more. “Sorry, I should have stopped sooner.”

“No—it’s fine. I can translate it.” It wasn’t as if he could forget a word of what Yuuri had just said. Victor’s heart was beating too quickly as he faced Chris. He prepared what he wanted to say, then, at the last minute, said it in Russian. He relayed what Yuuri said, as close to word-for-word as he could, then added an addendum of his own. “If Rostelecom lets him go, I’m going after him.”

Chris blinked at him. “Going after—what?” When Victor said nothing, he simply stared, then his eyes widened. “Oh— _dammit_ , Victor. Why? You just met him. Was he that good in—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Victor snapped. When his outburst made Yuuri startle, he forced himself to calm. They were still speaking in Russian. “You yourself have been telling me how cold and empty I’ve been for years. How listless. I know you’re right. I also know there’s something about this man that shakes all of that up. I need to see what that is, why. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s a lark, which is what you’re thinking. If so, then all you’re out is a few weeks of my time. If I’m right, then the funk you all keep complaining about will go away.”

“You are as ridiculous as ever, if you think this affair will be that simple. Is he even interested? All he seems to care about is his family’s honor.”

Victor thought about how hesitant Yuuri was as they walked Makkachin. His heart caught. “I don’t know. What I do know is if you chase him away, I have no chance. So I’ll follow him to Japan. You can explain to my grandfather why his heir is begging outside of Katsuki’s mansion like a pathetic dog.”

“Shit. _”_ Chris wiped his mouth with his hand. “You’re supposed to help me, not back me further into the corner.”

Victor said nothing, only regarded him, waiting.

Eventually, after swearing in French and German both Chris turned to Yuuri. “Very well. You have Victor as your escort. As for interviewing us—I don’t know how to arrange this yet. It may take more than two weeks. And I _will_ need Victor from time to time during your wait. I can’t have him doing nothing but drive you around New York.”

“If that’s all you’re worried about, have Yuuri come with me.” Victor nodded at Yuuri. “Half my trips are to Japan or with Japanese interests here in the US. If he’s willing to help me while we’re in this interim period, that’s even better.”

Yuuri looked curious. “Help you what? What do you do with these Japanese interests?”

Victor smiled. “Charm them. But it’s difficult, because I’m not nearly as charming in Japanese.”

Yuuri wasn’t charmed, either. “I’ll consider the matter. But I’m happy to come along, and of course Victor can work, within reason.”

“I’m so glad I have your approval,” Chris muttered.

“Then it’s settled. You’ll be in contact with us, Chris?” When Chris nodded, Victor put his hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. “Shall we take our leave, then?”

Yuuri’s goodbye was as polite and elegant as his hello—Chris never had so much as a chance to swipe at him with any of his signature charming dominance. He was going to be fit to be tied at the office the next day. Victor was glad he wasn’t going to be there.

He was about to congratulate Yuuri on how well he’d done, but as soon as they were out of the house, around the hedge and away from the security cameras, Yuuri collapsed against the wall of the garage near where they’d parked, eyes closed, shoulders rounded as he breathed as if he’d run a mile. When he put his hand in the center of his chest, Victor became alarmed.

“Yuuri?”

Yuuri held up a hand, keeping his eyes closed. It took him a moment, but he finally said pushed off the wall and said, “I’m fine.”

He didn’t seem fine, however, and all the way home Yuuri  remained quiet. It didn’t surprise Victor that once they were back in his condo Yuuri retired to the bedroom, lying down on the bed because he was feeling a little tired. Makkachin immediately went to lie beside him—Victor worried about this, but Yuuri said that was fine.

Victor got the idea, however, that if _he_ tried to offer his houseguest any comfort, this would not be the case.

He busied himself with some work, then, when Yuuri still didn’t emerge, he thought about making something to eat for dinner, but his supplies were a little low. He was in the middle of trying to decide if he wanted to order groceries or takeout when the door to the bedroom finally opened.

Though Victor wouldn’t have imagined it was possible, Yuuri looked worse for resting than he had when he went to lie down. He was pale, he looked exhausted, and there was something about him reminiscent of the night they’d met, the way he’d appeared standing on the curb outside that coffee shop. He also looked, for reasons Victor couldn’t begin to guess, guilty. 

Victor put down the cookbook he’d been leafing through and fought the urge to rush to the man’s side. “Yuuri? Is everything all right?”

Yuuri couldn’t seem to look him in the eye. Guilt? Shame? Embarrassment? A blush stained his cheeks, but it only made Victor ache for him. “I have…I request of you. Several. But I also have something about myself I need to explain.” A hint of his earlier steel flared, like an ember in a fire. “Not an apology. An explanation.”

“Of course. But please, let me know how I may help you. It’s the role I agreed to—how I’m to serve you on behalf of my grandfather’s company. I’d like to know how I can be of service to you, Yuuri.”

He’d meant the words, every one, but it pleased him to see he’d chosen them correctly, that they managed to ease Yuuri somewhat. His guest drew a breath, let it out. “First, I have some things I need shipped to your place as quickly as possible. Can you give me the mailing address I should use?”

Victor gave it, then waited as Yuuri tapped a message into his phone. Then Yuuri set aside the device, drew a breath, and continued. “I have another request for you, this evening, if they can manage to finish the arrangements before the pharmacies close. I need to ask you to collect a prescription for me.”

“There are several not far from here that never close. I can tell you the names of them, and you can pass those on to Phichit, if that would be helpful.”

Yuuri seemed surprised at the idea of a pharmacy that never closed, but he said yes, this would be terribly helpful, and so Victor gave him the names and phone numbers, and then he waited as Yuuri picked up his phone and relayed this information as well. Then he put the phone down once more, turned to Victor, and let out a breath.

“The reason I need the prescription is because I have trouble with depression and anxiety. I’ve struggled my whole life, but since I’ve retired from skating, it’s been especially difficult. Pride made me leave without asking for more medication before departing from Japan, and the past twenty-four hours have proven a little more than I can handle. I tried to manage it on my own, but I can tell I’m going down a bad path, so I called Phichit and asked him to help.” He shut his eyes on a long blink. “If I can begin taking my medicine, I’ll be a little better. And once I get the package from Phichit. But in the meantime, I apologize. I am poor company.”

Victor didn’t know where to begin responding—though he knew he had to tread carefully. “I’m sorry to hear my family has caused you an additional burden. I can’t help but note that if we had behaved as we should have, you wouldn’t have had this additional stress. Of course I’ll do everything I can to help make things right. Collecting a prescription is the very least I can do. But why do you worry what kind of company you are when you’re unwell?”

Yuuri pursed his lips. “Because I could tell, after the meeting, you were happy, that you wanted—” He cut himself off, then sighed. “Forget it. It’s not important.” 

Victor stepped closer and put a gentle hand on Yuuri’s arm as he tried to turn away. “It’s quite important. What did you think I wanted that has caused you this much distress?”

Yuuri was blushing again. “I’m sure I’m simply reading into things. If I tell you I’ll only embarrass myself.”

“Then allow me to tell you what I _was_ thinking after the meeting. I was thrilled with how well it went, with how expertly you handled Chris, who is by no means an easy man to handle even on his worst day. I was impressed with how you took care of your family but allowed me space to take care of mine too. I was busy thinking ahead to what we could do with the weeks we had together, and I was hoping I could impress you at least a little—I was trying to decide how I could start, when I saw how much the meeting had taken out of you. So then I began attempting to take care of you instead. While you rested I was working out what to feed you. That’s what I was doing when you appeared. So whatever you thought I was thinking—that’s what in fact I was.”

Yuuri’s blush had deepened while Victor spoke, but he didn’t look flustered any longer. He simply appeared…disarmed. “You…you are like a puppy.” He gasped and clapped his hand over his mouth, going red to his ears and down his neck before pressing his hands together and bowing several times. “Please forgive me—that was terribly rude!”

Victor laughed. “Why? I like dogs. Besides, that means I’m _your_ puppy.” He leaned in close enough to buss Yuuri’s cheek, and while Yuuri sputtered, attempting to recover, Victor continued. “What were your other requests?”

Yuuri looked as if he wanted to object to something, then sighed and gave up. “This one is more difficult, I think. But I wondered if we could find somewhere for me to skate. One of the things Phichit is mailing me are my skates. He insists if I make regular trips to the ice I’ll feel calmer.”

It took effort for Victor _not_ to appear like a puppy now, because the idea that he would see Yuuri skate— _regularly—_ would have had him wagging his tail, if he’d possessed one. “I’ll look into it immediately.”

Yuuri was about to say something else, but then his phone rang. He picked it up and began speaking in Thai. Victor returned to the kitchen, trying to give him his privacy, but he couldn’t stop passing the door and stealing glances. Anxiety disorder and depression. Victor didn’t know a great deal about such things, but he knew they were serious, and he ached for Yuuri that he had to deal with this on top of everything else. That he’d dealt with _Chris_ feeling that way—Victor hoped Yuuri understood what a coup that was in any state, but feeling unwell himself, he should feel as if he’d hung the moon. Victor would fetch the rock from the sky himself, if it would make Yuuri happy.

He’d start, however, with the man’s prescriptions. 

The phone call turned out to be a notification that the medication had been called in to one of the pharmacies, and by the time Victor arrived it would be ready. Victor, however, first urged Yuuri to soak in the tub while he was gone, and he also coaxed a food order out of him on the way. Miso soup and rice with peas. There was a Japanese restaurant not far from the pharmacy, and when Victor stopped there, he spoke to the owner herself—in Japanese—and asked her what would be a good something extra to take to a friend who was homesick for good food. So in addition to the prescription, miso, and rice, Victor took back some fried chicken, which was not on the menu and which the owner hurried back to the kitchen to make herself.

Yuuri was in bed with Makkachin when Victor returned, though he came into the kitchen to take his medicine and eat. He was surprised to see the karaage, but he ate it all, declaring it was almost as good as his mother’s. He insisted Victor try some too—Victor couldn’t imagine what Yuuri’s mother made, because what he was eating was heavenly.

Yuuri didn’t take his medicine until after he ate, insisting it would make him sleepy, and once he took it, Victor was prepared for him to go straight to bed. This was, in fact, what happened, but before Yuuri disappeared into the bedroom, he came up behind Victor in the kitchen. Victor turned around, smiling, a _goodnight_ ready on his lips.

The word died as he caught a glance at Yuuri’s expression, still weary but full of determination now too. And Victor’s heart  kicked up as Yuuri caught Victor’s hips and anchored him firmly against the edge of the counter.

With one hand on Victor’s hip, Yuuri wrapped the other around Victor’s neck with a cool, delicate touch, though there was nothing soft about the way he tugged Victor toward his mouth. When Victor gasped, Yuuri caught Victor’s lip between his teeth, sucking gently as one hand kneaded Victor’s waist and the other slid into Victor’s hair.

Moaning, Victor sagged into him, opening wider, turning his head to let Yuuri in deeper. His own hands reached out to anchor on Yuuri’s shoulders.

But before they could land, Yuuri broke the kiss and stepped back, leaving Victor aching, wanting. Yuuri rubbed Victor’s bottom lip with his thumb, gently closing Victor’s mouth.

“Thank you, Victor.” He pressed his thumb against the seam of Victor’s lips with a wink, though he blushed too. “I look forward to more adventures with you tomorrow.”

 _Me too,_ Victor thought, heart pounding in his ears as he watched Yuuri leave the room, Makkachin at his heels. _Me too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the much, much longer than planned hiatus. The aforementioned book which is my most recent one for publication has really, really been trying to kill me, but it did not succeed (though it's not out yet, so give it time) and I'm through the worst of the time-suck. It's in proofing and I'm no longer passing out at the dinner table as I recover so I hopefully have more time for fun things like this. Though now I have to start planning promo so...yeah. Except honestly the more promo I do the more I will feel like I am being speared with a thousand swords and will be more likely to come write fanfic. So it should all work out.
> 
> Normally I don't talk about day job fics on tumblr because it's all about YOI but that fic is kind of a special case so if you follow me (cullinankatsudon) in July you might hear about it. You at least want to see the art when it's ready. Holy cats. 
> 
> Anyway. I'm talking not about the thing you're here for.
> 
> So this is kind of a transition chapter and it got a bit away from me, plus I kept writing it by inches while I was in editing from hell, so apologies if it feels a bit off. Mostly I'm trying to get to SKATING and I'm trying to setup what is now the novel stuff. I honestly had no idea this was going to end where it did. I thought it would be a quick thing after Chris with the being nervous and then the next thing I knew Victor was arranging for fried chicken. So, I mean, whatever works, but yeah. I'm kind of annoyed because I'd PLANNED to get to skating tonight but now it's late, so now here we are.
> 
> Guess what the next chapter is, though. 
> 
> Not sure when I get to it. I'm out of town this weekend teaching a class (all weekend) and my kid wants quality time before I go, so that will get priority. But you never know when abruptly I will start writing skating because I can. I would say look for it within a week or so. Of course, last time I said it would be soon and look where we are. It all depends too on when cover art and proofs come in because the hot second that stuff lands it takes over my life until it's in the hopper because I'm up against so many walls right now I don't even know how to talk about it.
> 
> There's gonna be fucking skating, though. SO MUCH FUCKING SKATING. GRATUITOUS SKATING.


	6. Chapter 6

Phichit had said he would send Yuuri’s skates express, but Yuuri had expected the package would take a week or so to arrive, since Japan and New York were not exactly next door to one another. So when Victor’s doorman knocked two days later and presented them with a large brown box with the language of home stamped all over the label, Yuuri could only stare at it, sure this had to be some _other_ delivery from Japan. But no. When he opened it, there were his skates, the clothes he’d requested, and because it had been Phichit who packed the box, snacks.

Victor insisted on being present for the unboxing, especially when he saw the food. “Matcha Kit Kats! Oh, I haven’t had those in _years_.”

They were Yuuri’s favorite, and he famously never shared, but at the look on Victor’s face, he handed one of the bars over, blushing as Victor made love to the candy. “I thought you traveled to Japan sometimes.”

Victor took a moment to respond, too wrapped up in the rapture of the Kit Kat. “I do, but I never have time to wander around looking for candy while I’m there. I’m always in a hotel. I search the gift shop every time, hoping, but they never have them. They’re not the right kind of hotel for that.”

Yuuri wondered what kind of meetings Victor held that he couldn’t step outside and find a convenience store and buy a candy bar. Perhaps he didn’t realize it was that simple? Victor’s Japanese _was_ good, but he’d seemed surprised that Yuuri had shown up at Chris’s house with _omiyage_ , which was so Japanese Yuuri thought his lobotomized corpse would probably find a way to get to a convenience store to find a small bag of chocolate to take to someone’s house upon visiting before it ate their brains. Or perhaps Victor simply didn’t like shopping outside of fancy places. He was funny that way. He’d gone to the pharmacy for Yuuri, but when Yuuri had taken Makkachin out the next day, something the doorman said made him think Victor had needed help figuring out how to complete the errand, and the doorman had found this funny. Yuuri wasn’t entirely certain—his English was improving dramatically, being forced to use it like this, but he was always only vaguely aware of what was being said. In any event, he got the impression Victor usually sent other people on errands for him, but he had carried this one out himself. Yuuri hadn’t known what to make of that thought. There was a great deal of things about Victor Nikiforov which left him puzzled.

Some things about the man, however, were remarkably clear and simple, though they troubled Yuuri in an entirely different way. For example, the way Victor seemed so happy to be given a simple candy bar—he enjoyed the candy, yes, but Yuuri was aware the fact that it had come _from him_ made it exceptionally sweet, pardon the pun. The way Victor had gone to get Yuuri’s prescription himself, though he usually would not do such a thing, was troubling. The way he had spoken with such passion in Russian to Chris and Chris had been upset—Yuuri didn’t know what Victor had said, but the expression on his face had been both arousing and unnerving at once.

He had likened Victor to a puppy, and he hadn’t changed his mind about that comparison. The trouble was, Yuuri found he _liked_ puppies more than he knew. And the more Victor regarded him with hopeful, baleful gazes, the more Yuuri’s brain helpfully whispered ideas to make the man even _more_ baleful, _more_ aching. Which seemed…terrifying. 

Victor was still eating the candy, taking his time, but he glanced occasionally at Yuuri, and when he found Yuuri staring too long, he hesitated. Eventually he broke off one of the sticks and held it out to Yuuri, a silent offering.

This was one of those moments where Yuuri’s brain had somehow become eager to twist Victor around his finger, because instead of declining, or accepting it and saying thank you, Yuuri stared at Victor for several seconds, then leaned forward—slowly—and bit off the end of the chocolate.

He didn’t simply take a nibble, either. He placed his lips over the tip, keeping his gaze on Victor’s, and set his teeth into the coating. Watching Victor’s blue eyes widen, then narrow, his gaze fixing on Yuuri, Yuuri didn’t take a bite, not right away. He swept his tongue out the side of his mouth, catching the edge of Victor’s thumb. 

What was he doing? What game was he playing? How did he even know to play it, anyway? The number of men Yuuri had dated was…low. There had been a few women, long ago, until one night at a training camp a young man from Canada had smiled at Yuuri and led him in a dance that needed no words. After that Yuuri hadn’t particularly thought hard about whether or not he liked women or men better, only that men were far easier and less complicated in his mind, and his body seemed more interested, and so there was that matter, settled, unless he was ever expected to raise a family, which his family didn’t seem to bring up, so, no, he was fine. But mostly for Yuuri there had been skating. Skating and occasionally men he’d fumbled with in the dark, usually men who also skated. Quiet, calm men who didn’t want to talk much.

He absolutely had never played _games_ with them. But then, none of the men had ever been Victor Nikiforov.

Victor, Yuuri suspected, had played games before. He didn’t seem to mind at all that Yuuri teased him. In fact, when Yuuri licked his thumb, Victor’s eyes darkened, focusing even more on Yuuri, and he traced his index finger around Yuuri’s lips. He seemed to be waiting for more. 

Yuuri didn’t want more, not right now. He withdrew his finger and deliberately averted his gaze, focusing instead on the skates. He touched the familiar leather, the smell evoking memories of the ice, comforting and bittersweet. 

“I’ve found you somewhere to skate.” Victor stopped eating, speaking with a quiet carefulness Yuuri appreciated and resented. “A private training center not far from the city. They said we only need to tell them when we’re coming, and we’re welcome to use the facilities.”

The idea that he could skate soon offered Yuuri an anchor that made him ache. His fingers curled over the heel of the skate. “Ah. I see.”

“Would you like to go today.” When Yuuri’s lifted his gaze in sharp surprise, Victor smiled. “I did say all we had to do is let them know.”

 _Today. I could skate today._ Yuuri’s fingernail hooked into the blade guard, the cool of the metal soothing his skin. “Would you mind?”

“Are you kidding? I’ve been dying to see you skate.” He blushed as he added. “I wish I had a pair of skates, though I’m so rusty, I’m sure I’d be terrible.”

“We can get some. I’ll teach you.” The thought of leading Victor across the ice made him dizzy. _Yes. I want to do this._

“Then I suppose we need to get ready.”

Yuuri had struggled to keep himself on an even keel ever since he’d boarded the plane to come to America, but as he dressed to accompany Victor to the borrowed skating rink, he was focused and happy in a way he hadn’t been for a long, long time. It felt good to know he was about to skate, yes, but he was excited to take _Victor_ skating. To show him something he was good at for once, even if he couldn’t do it competitively any longer. His mind kept mapping out routines, editing them to protect his injury, crafting exhibition-level performances with the goal of seeing Victor’s face light up in wonderment. He thought of teaching Victor to skate, of skating with him. He thought of spending hours on the ice, roving silently across the surface.

Oh, he had missed this more than he’d realized.

They stopped at a specialty sports store on the way out of town to purchase skates for Victor—Yuuri wasn’t impressed with either the boot or the blade offerings, but they were passable and would serve until he could assess Victor’s skill level. He realized how seriously he was taking things and downplayed the matter. “It isn’t as if it’s important. This is only for entertainment anyway.”

Victor raised his eyebrows at him. “Who said my entertainment wasn’t important?”

This comment made Yuuri blush, and he tried to keep his gaze out the window as they rode out of the city. Except as usual he was acutely aware of Victor’s presence, especially in the close confines of the vehicle.

Ever since Yuuri had asked for help getting his medication, Victor hadn’t left his side, except to run a quick errand to the deli downstairs. He called runners from the Rostelecom offices and delivery for the groceries. Yuuri kept insisting he was fine, but Victor only smiled and said he understood this, yes, but he was still staying home. When Makkachin needed a walk, Yuuri was roped into coming along, and Yuuri never argued, because the truth was, he needed to get out.

Today he was getting well out, and once again, Victor was with him. Driving Yuuri once again. Yuuri knew better than to apologize for keeping him from his work—he’d demanded this of the man, after all. He could manage gratitude, however.

“Thank you for arranging this. I imagine it was no small amount of trouble to find a private place to skate.”

“I enjoyed the challenge.” Victor shifted his grip on the wheel, glancing at Yuuri with a smile. “The rink is a training center at a private residence in Connecticut. I hear the view is quite lovely through the windows. Though I apologize. I fear the cost is that you’ll need to acknowledge young lady who trains there. She’s a professional skater herself, I gather, and a fan.”

Yuuri tried to think of who the female American skater might be, but there were so many, he was bad at keeping track, and he didn’t know where anyone lived. “What’s her name?”

“Sara Crispino. She’s Italian, but her brother does business in New York and likes to keep an eye on her. He’s quite protective. He’ll be the one letting us in. His name is Michele.”

“Sara—yes, I’ve seen her skate. She’s quite good. She’s finaled in the Grand Prix several times. I had no idea she trained in the States.”

“Only sometimes, from what I’ve been able to understand. They’re present this week, but they’re willing to lend us access even when they’re away. I had to promise a favor to Michele for that, but it was easy enough.”

Yuuri did’t like that. “I hope I didn’t put you out.”

“It’s never a bother to help you, Yuuri.”

The training center was indeed beautiful—the building itself was sedate, but a wall of glass windows overlooked a lake and rolling hills. Michele Crispino greeted them at the door, dressed as if he were heading into the city for work but had been waiting to greet them first. He shook Victor’s hand in a familiar way but gave Yuuri a suspicious once-over as he greeted him.

“I saw your final skate. It was brilliant, before your fall. I’m sorry to hear it meant your retirement. I hope you’ve recovered well.”

Yuuri inclined his head in a bow as he searched for the proper English reply. “Thank you. I’m doing fine. I hope your sister does her best this season.”

For some reason this made Michele frown harder at Yuuri, but he only nodded gruffly. “Sara is on the ice now, but she’s coming into the city with me once she says hello. I made it clear to Victor you can’t practice when she does. I don’t want to interrupt her time.”

Yuuri nodded. “Yes, of course. Thank you very much for letting us use your facility.”

“ _Yuuri!_ ”

He turned in time to see a beautiful woman with long brown hair come rushing up to him as quickly as someone can, rushing on skate guards. Smiling, she threw her arms around him. “It’s so good to see you again!”

Blinking, Yuuri held up his arms a moment, then awkwardly returned the embrace as he glanced at an amused Victor and a fuming Michele. “Sara?” he ventured at last.

She pulled back, though she kept hold of his shoulders as she smiled at him. “How are you? You look so well. I was so happy when Michele said you wanted to use my rink. Would you mind if I stayed to watch you skate a little while?”

She spoke so fast, her accent thick—Yuuri only vaguely remembered her as well, which meant he was still reeling from her hug attack. Now she wanted to watch him skate? He didn’t know what to say.

Victor put his hands on Yuuri’s shoulder, gently dislodging Sara’s as he came up behind him. “Forgive us—I think Yuuri would prefer to skate alone today. It’s been some time since he’s been on the ice. Perhaps another time?”

This was exactly what Yuuri had wanted to say, though he worried it was too bold. Sara, however, seemed to understand, much as she didn’t like the answer. “Of course. Only promise you’ll come often, then. We won’t be in the States for long, and I do want to see you skate again, Yuuri.”

Michele gave them a tour of the facility while Sara got changed—sometimes the English was a bit much for Yuuri and he let Victor listen instead, focusing instead on the expanse of the rink before him. A member of the Crispino staff was preparing the surface for him, and Yuuri watched, then shut his eyes, focusing on the smell of the ice. Sharp and cold, the familiar, welcoming bite. He wanted to stand on it, to feel the coolness wafting up to him, the sheerness beneath his blades. 

And then the rink was ready, the Crispinos were gone—and it was time for Yuuri to take the ice.

He didn’t speak to Victor, moving like a robot as he got his skates and himself ready. All he could see was the ice. He could feel it, pulling at him. How long had it been this time? Months, at least. He’d skated a great deal as a part of his physical therapy, and he’d tried coaching, but then he’d quit entirely.

His whole body and soul ached now, craving the return.

A shiver ran down his spine, electricity across his skin as his blade hit the surface. As he stepped out, sailed toward the center, he shut his eyes in a long blink of indulgence, savoring the moment. Then he opened them, drew a breath, and began to skate.

He put himself through a long period of warming up, longer than normal, mindful both of his long period of absence and of his stiff hip. It was behaving well lately, but it never cared much for the cold, and he wouldn’t be able to do much until his muscles were good and warm, and he’d need to pay close attention to fatigue. He wanted to try some jumps, because most of them were acceptable under controlled circumstances, but he wasn’t sure that was a good idea yet. He stuck to rehearsing old step sequences instead, moving to music only he heard, echoes in his mind. Eventually, though, he felt brave and set himself up for a triple axle, smiling when he managed to land it perfectly.

Muffled applause startled him out of his reverie, and he glanced to the rail to see Victor standing there in his tan coat and leather gloves, clapping but appearing mildly concerned. 

“You look amazing, Yuuri.” His gaze fell to Yuuri’s hip.

Yuuri skated over to Victor and reached for the towel. “My hip is fine. I’m monitoring it. I know my limits.” He blotted his forehead and reached for the water bottle. “Are you going to skate?”

Victor kept watching him. He had the oddest expression on his face. “Yes, eventually. But I’m enjoying watching you right now. You’re truly wonderful. I’d seen the videos, but they didn’t prepare me for the real thing.”

Yuuri gave him a dubious glance. “I was only warming up.”

“All the more impressive, then.”

Yuuri turned to lean backwards against the rail, staring out at the ice. “I want to do my old routine, without the jumps, of course. It’ll annoy me to leave them out, but I think it will feel good as well. They always wanted me to make an exhibition skate, to come back as a coach or a commentator, but I didn’t want to.” Except sometimes Yuuri wished he would have.

“I’m happy to be your private audience anytime.”

Victor hadn’t moved when he said this—he didn’t touch Yuuri, and yet Yuuri felt as if he’d been caressed all the same. Shaking off the shiver, he pushed from the rail. “If only I could play the music, I could give you a real performance.”

Why on earth had he said such a thing?

“Ah, but you can.” Victor’s tone was calm, silky, but Yuuri could feel the edge beneath it. He _wanted_ the performance as much as Yuuri, inexplicably, wanted to give it. “Michele showed me where the sound system is and how to use it.”

Yuuri wavered a moment, wondering if he should follow through with this—was he even ready? He hadn’t performed _to the song_ since that day. “I have it on my phone.”

Victor shook his head as he tugged off a glove, pulling out his own phone. “It’s from _Spirited Away_ , yes? ‘The Dragon Boy’? I’ll purchase it and plug it in for you. You go prepare yourself.”

Yuuri shook his head. “It’s a special arrangement. Get my phone from my bag, and I’ll queue it up for you.”

Victor did has Yuuri asked him, but Yuuri couldn’t help being impressed that Victor knew his song. He took the phone from him when it was presented, found the song, and passed it back. But he didn’t stop thinking about Victor as he skated out to the center of the ice and took his position for the start of his routine.

Victor must have been watching his videos online. Which meant Victor must have seen him fall. Of course—he’d said as much. Still, it smarted to realize it this way. He wondered why he was about to skate the routine for Victor. With music and all. Wondered why he’d hijacked the man from his job and why Victor had let him

He wondered if he would fall today, and what it would feel like to fall in front of Victor.

As the music began, old memories swam to the surface. Yuuri’s body followed the routine like the creature of habit it was, but his mind meandered down dark and sorrowful paths. This had been the routine he’d been sure would carry him to his gold medal. He’d worked extra hard. His anxiety so often got the better of him, but he loved Ghibli films, and this one had been a childhood favorite; to skate to it was a lifelong dream. He wanted to with with such a Japanese song as well, and with his costume designed to hint at him being a dragon boy—oh, how much he’d wanted from that season. All those feelings, all those disappointments, came back with each note.

So did the other memories, though. The joys and discoveries. The feeling that he _could_ have, _would_ have taken gold, if not for his fall. Everyone said so.  He could feel it. Taste it on the wind. He felt it now, flowing through him as he moved through the step sequences, popping each jump into a single instead of pushing his body into the set of five quads which had, unquestionably, been his downfall. He’d pushed too hard. Asked his body for too much, and the price had been his career. The ice. His only love. For a year, he’d woken up every morning thinking of this, how his greed had cost him everything.

He wasn’t thinking of the greed now. Only the memories, bittersweet but so potent still, the ice calling to him with as much strength as it ever had. 

 _It isn’t over,_ it whispered as he ghosted over its surface. _it’s changed, but it isn’t over._

When Yuuri took the final pose, he was short of breath, he ached, and his body and soul burned, but he felt so much better, something uneven in him finally settled into place.  He kept his eyes closed for several beats, savoring the feeling, then lowered his arms and turned to Victor to thank him for giving him this moment.

Victor stood staring at him, frozen, completely stunned.

Yuuri ran a hand over his hair, wishing he had his glasses on so he could see Victor properly. “Was it terrible? It _has_ been a long time.”

“Terrible?” Victor shook his head, still looking stricken. “Yuuri. It…it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Now Yuuri felt even more self-conscious. “I had none of the jumps in. It was far more impressive with those.”

“I don’t know anything about such things. All I know was that it was as if you were dancing on the ice. _Dancing_. I could barely breathe for watching you. I could spend the rest of my life doing nothing else but watching you skate, Katsuki Yuuri.”

There he was again. Victor Nikiforov, heir to Rostelecom Corporation, looking as if he wanted desperately to put himself at Yuuri’s feet. And Yuuri realized, finally, why he kept resisting the man’s offers to go there.

“But I thought you were going to skate _with_ me _,_ Victor.” Yuuri held out his hand and smiled. “Come out to the ice. Everyone’s been saying in my retirement I should take up coaching. Today I feel like they might have the right idea after all.”

Victor smiled back. “I’ll get my skates.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took so damn long. Sorry it isn't longer. I have a con this week and a blog tour to prep, so it might be a bit before I get back in the groove. BUT, ironically, I have to start drafting a new publication story soon, and I'm more likely to write this stuff then because once I'm in writing brain, I'm in writing brain. I'm kind of hoping I can keep in this stuff, but shit has been real, man.
> 
> If you're into this kind of thing, this is the closest I can come to the arrangement for Yuuri's skate: https://open.spotify.com/track/7GU4Lq1mCSMdOuJ5agAo2Z


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, um, the mature rating is officially in play now.

If anyone had told Victor a week ago he’d be taking an extended leave from work so he could take skating lessons from a Japanese Olympic skater…well, he would have wanted the next week to arrive faster, but he would have had a hard time believing such things happened in real life. And yet here he was, being led across the ice by Katsuki Yuuri, whose father’s assistant had mailed his skates to him express, who had selected a pair of skates for Victor with a critical eye, dismissing the shopkeeper’s attempts to upsell them designer gear and had made Victor demand to ask to see what they didn’t have on the shelf. When the shopkeeper finally figured out who was glaring at him, he fell over himself pulling out an entirely different line of skates, shaking Yuuri’s hand and asking for his autograph. He also begged Yuuri to sign a pair of skates, which he agreed to do—but only if the shopkeeper comped them the blades of his choice and gave them a hefty discount on the skate bodies he’d selected.

God help him, but simply remembering that exchange made Victor hard.

“You’re not focusing, Victor,” Yuuri chided him.

“Sorry.” Victor yanked his attention back to the moment, which had plenty going for it as well. Victor wasn’t a terrible skater, but it had been some time, and with his thoughts elsewhere, he kept stumbling, so Yuuri had taken his hand. Now they sailed across the ice hand in hand, Yuuri issuing instructions.

“We’re going to keep gliding and stroking for several more laps until you’re warmed up. That might help some of your skills come back to you as well. Your center of gravity seems to be a bit off.”

“I forgot how intense this was on my ankles.” Victor watched Yuuri’s swizzles, the hourglass-shaped movements back-and-forth with his feet. Yuuri’s were lazy, effortless, as if he were idly glancing across the ice’s surface. When Victor attempted to mirror him, he tripped and would have fallen, if it hadn’t been for Yuuri’s hand.

“What did I just tell you about sticking to gliding and stroking?” 

“I’m not a newcomer to this.” Victor’s cheeks flamed. “It’s been a while, is all.”

“Apparently it’s been so long you forgot you need to warm up your muscles first. Didn’t you notice how long I spent getting ready before I performed the modified version of my old routine?”

Victor sighed. “You’re a strict coach.”

This made Yuuri smile with a distant fondness. “Funny enough, none of my skating coaches were. My Japanese ones were too busy impressing my father, which was why he sent me to study with Celestino in Detroit—he’s serious, but Italian, and expansive. I felt like I worked to get things right half the time so he didn’t come boisterously encourage me. My strict coach was my ballet instructor, Minako-sensei. She’s a friend of the family, once world-renowned, now working out of a small studio in the town where we own small hot springs resort and my mother prefers to stay.”

“I hope I get to meet her someday.” Victor frowned at his feet. “I’m embarrassed I’m so bad at this. I truly used to be better.”

“I’ll teach you to be better.”

Yuuri did exactly that. Once Victor was warmed up, Yuuri brought back the lessons Victor’d had many years ago and gave him pointers he’d never received, things only a professional figure skater knew—how to hold himself, his legs, his body. Yuuri promised to show him exercises that would make him stronger, if he wanted to know them, and Victor insisted he did. 

When they finished, he was tired, and his feet were killing him, but he felt exhilarated and happy. Yuuri looked much more relaxed than he had when they’d arrived as well, which had been the entire point. Victor felt pleased.

“We can come again tomorrow, if you like.” He rubbed his foot once it was free of the skate. “I’ll check with Michele when would be a good time. Though you’ll probably have to perform for Sara as payment at some point. And as soon as Mila hears about this, she’ll show up too. They still want to take you shopping.”

“Oh—Sara Crispino is the Sara you mentioned before? The one who was friends with your coworker Mila?”

 _Friends._ Victor considered attempting to explain Mila and Sara’s relationship, then decided he would let it speak for itself. Besides, he wouldn’t put it past Michele to have the rink bugged, and both Mila and Sara would have him horsewhipped if he brought down Jealous Big Brother on them. “Yes. They get along incredibly well.”

“Well, I don’t know that I’m ready to go shopping. But I’m happy to come back to the rink as soon as I’m welcome.” Yuuri pushed his glasses higher on his nose before he tucked his skates into their bag. “Do you have any idea when I’ll be called in for my interview?”

“I believe we will be waiting at least another few weeks. You threw Chris for quite a loop, and everyone else will be in much the same boat. Not that there’s anything wrong with this. But when this happens, in my experience, they will all want to have meetings. Several of them. I think it’s good, personally. This gives you some time to learn more about us. I still have work I’ll need to show up for eventually, and you can come along, if you like, to check out the offices. Meet some of the staff.”

Yuuri nodded slowly. “Yes. That might not be a bad idea.”

Victor hummed to himself as they loaded their things into the trunk of his car and prepared to head back into the city. Things had gone so well, and Yuuri was still relaxed. He wondered if he could convince Yuuri to go out to dinner with him, perhaps to a show. They’d drown in English, but if he chose the right one, it wouldn’t matter. He tapped his index finger on the wheel, trying to decide which might be the best candidate.

Before he could so much as settle on one, let alone ask Yuuri if he’d be game to try, Yuuri spoke up. “I’d like you to stop somewhere for me, please.” He gave Victor directions, and when they arrived at their destination, it turned out to be an Asian grocery store. When Victor tried to accompany Yuuri inside, he wasn’t allowed. 

“I won’t be long,” Yuuri said, and so Victor assumed he must be after something specific, a grocery item he missed from home. Victor was a bit hurt not to be invited along, because he would have liked to have seen the inside, but Yuuri’s tone hadn’t invited argument, so he waited.

Yuuri didn’t come out with one item. He came out with fistfuls of bags which he put in the backseat of the car.

Victor stared at him with his mouth open. “Yuuri, what…?”

“I’m making you dinner.” Yuuri nodded at the road. “Please, let’s go home. My seafood won’t stay fresh forever.”

So Victor took them home, where Yuuri did let him help carry the bags up the stairs, but he wouldn’t let Victor help put anything away or help get dinner started. “Someone needs to take Makka for a walk,” he pointed out, and so Victor went, grudgingly, willing the walk to be over quickly so he could get back to his apartment.

When he did return, it smelled _amazing._

The hallway was already awash with smells, but as soon as Victor opened the door it hit him like a train, and he trundled eagerly into the kitchen, where Yuuri stood with a towel for an apron around his waist and a saucer as a tasting dish as he tested his broth. A pair of breaded cutlets browned in a frying pan in front of him and rice bubbled in another, with onion, peas, and eggs waiting on the side for some further part in the process.

Victor’s belly hollowed out in want. He leaned over Yuuri’s shoulder, sucking in the smell with a happy sigh. “It looks wonderful, Yuuri. But…this doesn’t seem like seafood?”

“The shrimp is for tomorrow. I’m making yakisoba. Tonight we’re having katsudon.” He lifted a lid on a pot in the back and slipped the saucer into it. “Here. Try the miso soup and tell me what you think.”

Victor sipped from the saucer, then groaned. “It’s wonderful. _Yuuri._ I didn’t know you could cook like this!” 

“I enjoy cooking. It helps me focus.” He looked plenty focused at the moment, however. And happy too, as he bumped Victor with his hip. “Go sit down. It won’t be long now.”

It wasn’t much longer, but Victor enjoyed watching Yuuri work, shifting pans and preparing bowls as he cracked eggs and sliced cutlets then finally prepared trays and brought the food to the table. He put a bowl full of steaming meat and rice and egg, a bowl of rice, a bowl of soup and cup of tea in front of Victor, handed him a pair of chopsticks, then settled down with his own meal. 

Victor took one bite of his food and achieved nirvana. He groaned, melting over his bowl, then gave up all dignity and began to shovel it with lust and fervor into his mouth.

“ _So good_ ,” he murmured, around bites, then kept going. 

He consumed the entire bowl of food at an alarming rate, only pausing once to inhale most of the soup and wash his throat with some tea. There was rice underneath the pork cutlet, but also another bowl on the tray before him. As Victor wiped his mouth with his napkin, Yuuri picked up Victor’s untouched bowl of white rice and pinched some of the sticky substance with his chopsticks, holding the food out for Victor as he spoke.

“You need a rice cooker and a wok,” he said, popping the food into Victor’s mouth. “Tomorrow I’d like to stop and buy both on the way to the ice rink, if we go.”

Victor nodded as he chewed. He wasn’t hungry, at all, but he couldn’t help glancing at the bowl of rice, hoping Yuuri would feed him again. 

He did, dragging the chopsticks along Victor’s bottom lip. “So you enjoy katsudon? It’s my mother’s recipe.”

“It’s wonderful,” Victor said around the rice. “I’ve never had anything like it.” Victor realized this was the third time Yuuri had mentioned his mother’s katsudon, how soft Yuuri became when he mentioned his mother. 

_He misses her. But he’s keeping his head high. And making me dinner._

Victor stroked Yuuri’s cheek. “You’re amazing. Incredible.”

Yuuri blushed, but he smiled and tapped his chopsticks on Victor’s nose. “Help me clean up, and you can have some dessert.”

They did the cleanup together, Yuuri giving Victor instructions and Victor following them. They were a good team, Victor thought. Sometimes Victor quietly took charge when he could see Yuuri becoming overwhelmed, like when the dishwasher wasn’t letting him load the way he wanted because it was set up differently than he was accustomed to, but Victor didn’t point this out, only seamlessly took over and let Yuuri return to rinsing dishes in the sink. Victor put things away in cupboards too, and in general anticipated small, fussy tasks that he didn’t think Yuuri needed to bother with. The end result was their meal was cleaned up in record time, and Yuuri hadn’t become agitated or flustered.

In the end, it turned out, this strategy netted Victor an incredible reward.

From the freezer, Yuuri pulled out a small container, but he told Victor to put Makka in the kennel and go relax on the sofa. “I’ll be right there with desert.” Victor put his dog away, refusing to listen to the doggie whines, knowing full well if Makkachin were allowed to remain out while they ate in the living room, they’d spend the whole time batting him down. Once this task was done, he sank into the sofa and enjoyed the feeling of a full, contented belly, until Yuuri came in with a small tray, a bowl of ice cream, and two glasses of sake. 

“I’m not entirely sure how well the mochi ice cream will go with the sake,” he said, “but we’ll have to make do.” He set the tray down on the end table beside the sofa.

Then he picked up the bowl of ice cream and straddled Victor’s lap, sitting on his knees.

Victor’s heart began beating in overdrive, but it was nothing to when Yuuri slid a slice of ice cream into his mouth. 

“Red bean mochi ice cream.” Yuuri smoothed the spoon across Victor’s lips, catching imaginary excess cream. “It’s my favorite. What do you think?”

Victor  looked at the carnal, determined expression on Yuuri’s face and thought he’d died and gone to heaven. “Incredible.”

Yuuri took a bite for himself, then fed Victor more. “I wanted to thank you for taking me to the ice rink today, and for taking care of me.” He put the spoon back in the bowl and ran gentle fingers down Victor’s throat. “You’ve gone well out of your way to watch out for me. I appreciate it very much.”

Victor shut his eyes and sank into the sensation of that touch. “It’s nothing. Of course I’ll take care of you. We owe it to you.”

Yuuri put more mochi in Victor’s mouth. “You don’t owe me _this_ much.”

Yuuri wasn’t touching Victor anymore. He opened his eyes, looked at him blearily. Yuuri regarded him patiently, but with determination.

Ah. He wanted a confession. Hadn’t Victor done this? Perhaps it was part of the game? That was fine. Victor didn’t mind.

“I like taking care of you. I like you, Yuuri.”

Yuuri trailed the spoon around Victor’s lips. “Are you my puppy, Victor?”

Victor’s heart skipped a beat. “I…”

Yuuri slid the spoon away and kissed Victor’s chin, a whisper of a touch. “Will you be a good boy for me tonight?”

Victor’s breath caught. What was _this_ game? “ _Yuuri._ ”

Yuuri nuzzled Victor’s nose, ran the spoon down the center of Victor’s chest. “Be my good boy. Let me show you how happy you made me. Let me make you lie back and take my pleasure.”

Where had this come from? Victor didn’t want to complain, but… He opened his mouth to take another bite of ice cream, feeling dazed. Shaken. 

If Yuuri had this inside him…if he could control his anxiety this well and bring out _this_ …my god, but Rostelecom was toast.

“Oh, that was the last bite,” Yuuri said, with the most fake-sounding disappointment ever. “Guess you’ll need to share with me, Victor,” he said.

Then he kissed him.

Victor gasped as Yuuri took control of his mouth, coaxing him open, sweeping inside, stealing the last tastes of ice cream and then simply feasting on Victor. Shaking, Victor tried to put his arms around Yuuri, but Yuuri placed them back onto the couch without breaking the kiss. The message to Victor was, _you will remain still while I have my way with you_.

Victor turned his head the way Yuuri wanted him to, making sounds in the back of his throat as Yuuri stroked behind his ear.

_Yes, Yuuri. I am your puppy._

When Yuuri broke the kiss, for a moment Victor felt bereft, but then Yuuri began kissing his throat, unbuttoning Victor’s shirt and pushing up his undershirt, sliding fingers across his bare skin. “You’re quite beautiful,” Yuuri whispered. “Oh, I want to watch your face while I play with you. Will you let me do that, Victor?”

All Victor could offer in response was a whimper and a nod of his head as he lay back, shifting to help as Yuuri bared him, then proceeded with his tender torture. For a few moments he was able to marvel at the fact that this was the same man who had hovered so helpless on the curb outside the coffee shop, alone in the world—and then he was swept away on the tide of Yuuri’s mouth and hands as they moved across Victor’s naked chest. 

His last rational thought was to remember that Yuuri _had_ stormed his way into Victor’s car as if he belonged there. If Victor had been smart, that would have been his first clue. That and the way Yuuri had danced.

Or maybe that had been when Victor had decided he agreed that yes, Yuuri did belong right where he was.

He tipped his head back, gasping as Yuuri’s lips grazed his nipples, ghosted across his collarbone, trailed down his sternum. When Yuuri’s tongue teased into his belly button, Victor couldn’t help looking down, and he shivered as he saw Yuuri looking up at him, dark eyes unhidden by his glasses as he teased at Victor’s skin. He smiled, skill kissing Victor’s abdomen, as he smoothed his hands across Victor’s spread thighs.

“I was about to invite you to the bedroom. But I just remembered we haven’t even touched the sake.”

Victor could give a damn about the sake. “We’ll have it later.” His voice felt thick, and all he could think about was how close Yuuri’s hands kept coming to the bulge in his trousers. 

Yuuri winked at him. “You go on ahead and get undressed, then, and I’ll be along.”

Victor moved to the bedroom on unsteady legs, walking as if he’d already had six bottles of sake. The sight of the bed and thoughts of what he was about to do on it with Yuuri made his heart skip a beat as he hurried out of his clothes. He’d slept beside Yuuri every night since he’d arrived, but that’s all he’d done. Tonight…tonight would be different.

Once he was naked he lay on the bed, resting on his elbows, one leg raised bent at the knee with his foot on the bed, the other hooked to the side and tucked at an angle beneath the other leg. His erection, still plenty present, waved like a pole of greeting as Yuuri entered the room, and it was in fact the first place Yuuri looked, smiling in admiration as he set the tray of drinks on a bedside table.

“You _are_ handsome Victor. I can’t deny that.” He sipped his sake and stood beside the bed, fully clothed, drinking Victor in. For a moment his veneer of confidence faltered. “Handsome, charming, competent. Why, exactly, someone like you is interested in me, I can’t quite fathom.” The cloud lifted, and he smiled at Victor again. “But I’m not complaining.”

Victor pushed higher on his elbows. He wanted to explain why he was so attracted to Yuuri, but he found words failed him at the moment. The few he could muster up felt so lacking, anyway—they were only words, what good would they do? He needed to show Yuuri. 

“Make love to me Yuuri,” Victor whispered. “Please.”

Yuuri finished his drink, winked at Victor, then slowly shed his clothing.

Victor watched Yuuri’s shirt and jeans fall away, felt his heart hitch as Yuuri climbed naked onto the bed. His gaze, dark and focused, never left Victor’s. “What do you want?”

 _You_. “Touch me.”

Yuuri slid his hand down Victor’s chest, over his hip. Across his thigh. “Anywhere in particular?”

Victor groaned and gave Yuuri a pleading look. “Don’t tease me, Yuuri.”

Yuuri looked wicked, which was…delicious. “But I _like_ to tease you, Victor.” He leaned in close and nipped at Victor’s chin, his neck. His hand trailed over Victor’s balls. “Maybe you want me to touch you…here?”

Victor groaned as Yuuri teased the tender flesh lightly. “Yes.”

“Mmm.” Yuuri made love to Victor’s neck. “Maybe also…here?” 

Yuuri took hold of Victor’s shaft and pumped languidly. Victor had trouble breathing. “Yes, please.”

Yuuri stroked him there for a few moments, then slid long fingers down, trailing agonizingly slowly down behind Victor’s balls, down to his entrance. “And what about…here, Victor?”

Victor clutched at the sheets, quivering as Yuuri touched everywhere _but_ where Victor wanted him to be. “ _Please_ , Yuuri.”

Yuuri still didn’t touch him, though, only kept circling, kissing him on his neck. “Do you want me to fuck you, Victor?”

“ _Yes,_ please— _please_.”

“Do you have what we need for that?”

Victor came out of his sexual haze long enough to direct Yuuri to a drawer. While Yuuri left the bed to fetch them, Victor covered his face with his hands, catching his breath. But all too soon Yuuri was back, moving those hands away as he loomed over Victor, pressing a lube-slick finger to Victor’s hole.

“Don’t take your eyes off me.”

Victor didn’t know that he _could_ look away from Yuuri—not now, not with him looking like that, his eyes so full of erotic command, so cool and confident as he sat beside Victor on the bed. Victor gasped as Yuuri’s first finger went inside him, but he didn’t look away, watched Yuuri watching him. Yuuri smiled down at him, stroking Victor’s face with his free hand as he moved in and out of Victor’s body below.

“So beautiful. So sensual.”

Victor wanted to close his eyes and swim in the sensation of being done, but he remembered Yuuri’s command and kept his eyes open, even though it overstimulated him. It pressed him to his limit, though. Yuuri, kneeling on the bed beside him, gaze never leaving his as his finger worked with careful skill inside him. So gentle, but so firm. Yuuri defined. It broke Victor, and his elbows failed him, sending him onto the mattress with a gasp.

“Shh.” Yuuri stroked Victor’s hair, his cheek as he pushed deeper. “We’ll go slow, darling.”

“I don’t—” _want to go slow_ was swallowed in another gasp as Yuuri twisted his finger.

Yuuri pressed a kiss to Victor’s earlobe, then gently nipped it. “Slowly, Victor.”

Victor had no choice. He shuddered, gasped, arched against the bed as Yuuri opened him languidly, a centimeter at a time, gazing down at him all the while.  Occasionally he’d withdraw and stroke Victor’s cock, which was good, excellent—except Victor knew Yuuri wouldn’t do anything but tease him here either, and so in the end all he did was groan and whisper, “ _Yuuri, Yuuri,_ ” over and over.

Yuuri nuzzled him on the cheek. “I like the way you say my name.” He kissed the corner of Victor’s mouth as he breathed hard and ran his hand lazily up the quivering length of Victor’s cock. “And I think you like the way I tease you, Victor.”

Victor hadn’t three spare brain cells to consider this notion, but now that Yuuri slowed things down and made him do so, he had to admit he did. Chris would kill to know Victor had this masochistic streak. Which was why he would never, ever find out.

“Yes,” Victor whispered eventually. “But I didn’t really know I did. Until you.”

“I didn’t either. That I liked to tease someone so much. Perhaps I only like to tease Victor.” He swirled circles across Victor’s belly, his index finger sticky with lube and Victor’s precome. “Do you like _that_ idea, that I am this way only for you, and you for me?”

A hungry, tight ball with teeth formed in Victor’s abdomen. Possessiveness like he’d never known before. “ _Yes._ ”

Yuuri slid his hand back down to Victor’s perineum as his lips trailed to Victor’s ear. “Show me how much you like it, Victor.”

It wasn’t just that there were two fingers inside him this time, or that this entire episode had been going on for over forty minutes now, or that Yuuri was sticking his tongue in Victor’s ear. It was that whispered command, that invitation. _Show me, Victor._ So Victor did. His gasps and cried became louder. His body arched higher, legs spread wider. He gave up everything he had, letting Yuuri see how much his simple touch undid him.

When Yuuri’s touch left him, he opened his eyes and saw Yuuri moving over him. Victor eased his legs open and up as Yuuri nudged them, tried to get on his elbows as well, but Yuuri shook his head and pressed him gently back to the mattress with three fingers in the center of his chest.

“No. Lie back. There’s no work for you here. I only want you to enjoy this, Victor.” He ran his hands up the back of Victor’s thighs. “But show me how much you like this too, please.”

Victor was afraid he would like this so much he would explode. For a moment he feared it would all be too much. It had been a long time. Everyone saw the wealth, the family name, the charm, and assumed he would be the one driving. He didn’t mind, exactly. But it had been such a terribly long time since he’d let someone in like this, literally and figuratively. He felt exposed, overcharged, in danger of exploding, somehow. As if all the things he kept so carefully in line would pop open now, and leave him untethered in space.

Yuuri’s hands on his body anchored him, brought him back to ground. “It’s all right. I’ve got you.” He caught Victor’s chin, bent over him for a lingering kiss, then lifted up enough to smile at him. “Are you ready, Victor?”

Victor stared into those dark brown eyes, felt the world come into focus. Into a sense of rightness. “Yes.”

He didn’t close his eyes as Yuuri entered him—he gasped, but he stared straight ahead into Yuuri’s gaze, marveling at that quiet control. He could see the edges of Yuuri’s nervousness too, the anxiety that ate at him sometimes, but it didn’t own him. It certainly didn’t right now. Right now Yuuri owned Victor. Body and soul, punctuating his possession with long, deep thrusts that made Victor cry out softly and made his eyes water. He held onto Yuuri’s shoulders and arched with each movement, meeting him, unconsciously driving him deeper. 

When Yuuri picked up the pace at last, wringing Victor out until he felt boneless, Victor couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. He shut them on a sigh and held on tight, parting his lips as he became dizzy on sensation. When Yuuri slid a hand between them and added some friction, Victor couldn’t help it—he came immediately, and as he returned to the mattress in a shower of sparks and nerve endings, Yuuri finished inside him before draping himself over Victor’s body.

“I _am_ only this way for you,” Yuuri said at last whispering into Victor’s ear when he had his breath back. “I feel as if I’m in some kind of dream, when I’m by your side.”

Victor trailed a hand down Yuuri’s spine. “Then don’t wake up.”

 _And please_ , he whispered in his heart _, stay by my side._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't actually planned to go any of the places I went in this chapter except onto the ice. Which is fine. I just...hadn't really expected this to happen today. And when I say today I mean the two weeks it took me to get this out.
> 
> Right now trying not to let this drag but also enjoying letting them wallow. I looked and we're at the 40kish mark, which is the middle where dragging is wont to happen, but it's also where I enjoy having characters go off into hiding spaces and be together. But we still have lesbian shopping ahead. And traveling. Though I think I may pull the trigger and have them go do this interview soon because I feel like it's hanging over my head, plot wise.
> 
> TBH this kept trying to go pornier but I didn't feel like I'd set this up to be explicit so I reigned them in. Just so you understand, though, this Yuuri has more levels. I have the feeling I will keep holding him back and then he will keep bursting out. So expect this so go from mature to MATURE. and possibly MATURE!!!
> 
> I keep trying to update faster but life has so many objections. I spent the last two weeks writing 30k+ of promo posts. No lie. Still doing some of that, and now we're getting ready to go to Animefest. Plus my kiddo is having a bad anxiety run so my evenings are full of momming instead of writing, which is not something I mind, it's just that this is why I'm slow.
> 
> Watch my tumblr (cullinankatsudon) later this week though for photos of us in epic cosplay, though. Black Butler, Miss Kobayashi's Dragon Maid, and Yuri on Ice. I will be Grell, Kobayashi, and Victor.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I'm not dead.

Yuuri woke alone in Victor’s bed.

This wasn’t unusual—even if Makka didn’t bother him for a walk, Victor tended to rise early, whereas even though Yuuri had adjusted to New York time, he still favored sleeping in. This morning Yuuri could hear Makka in the other room, and when he listened more closely he heard Victor’s voice as well, cooing sweeting to his dog in Russian.

Smiling as he imagined how that must look, Yuuri rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

He felt good. Still slightly surreal because nothing about this trip to America was going the way he’d thought it would, but he was okay. He hadn’t anticipated the disaster with Rostelecom, but he hadn’t expected to meet Victor, either.

 _Victor_.

Yuuri shut his eyes. Who _could_ have predicted him? Most of the time Yuuri could barely believe he was real. He was the sort of man Yuuri watched from the shadows, wishing he had the courage to approach. Now Yuuri lay in that man’s bed, having made love to him the night before.

Victor was the dream Yuuri hadn’t known he wanted to dream. Yet he wasn’t why Yuuri had come to New York, and he needed to remember this. He had himself under control now, and it was past time he focused on his father’s company. He needed to learn more about Rostelecom and whether or not he should take a position with it, knowing if he did his father would likely give them the Niihama property they were after. Much as he’d like to spend every day skating and playing with Victor, it was time he took this seriously.

It was one thing to make that vow while he lay in bed alone. It was something else entirely to pull on a pair of sweat pants and slippers and find his host in the kitchen, only to be bowled over by that bright smile and those soft blue eyes. 

“Yuuri, good morning. Would you like some breakfast?” Without waiting for Yuuri’s answer, Vitor put on the kettle for tea and began making eggs and slicing ham. “I already called Sara, and she said we could use the rink this morning. She and Mila want to take us shopping this afternoon, though. I thought we could get the wok and other items you mentioned yesterday.”

Yuuri knew he wouldn’t be able to refuse if he faced Victor, so he busied himself with the teapot and leaves as he replied. “That would be wonderful, but I feel I should familiarize myself with your grandfather’s company. I’d intended to spend this time reviewing the notes I brought along, and I haven’t looked at anything.”

“Oh, well, if you want to learn about Rostelecom, you should definitely come shopping. Mila knows everything about it, much more than me. You can still review your notes, but I promise you this will be faster and more informative. Plus if you skate for Sara, Mila will be pleased with you, and she’ll do favors for you.”

Yuuri put down the tea tin and frowned over his shoulder at Victor. “Why would she do favors for me if I skate for Sara? That makes no sense at all.”

“Ah, well.” Victor winked. “They’re dating, but it’s a secret. So don’t tell anyone.”

Blushing, Yuuri poured boiling water over his tea. Dating. He wondered if he and Victor were dating as well. Yuuri certainly wouldn’t mind—it was just, how was he supposed to know? He’s started by accidentally propositioning the man, getting drunk at his party and dancing in his underwear, vomiting in his bathroom, then moving in. He gave him a skating lesson, made him dinner, and _then_ slept with him. Was that dating? Or madness?

Yuuri sighed. Since he was involved, there was unquestionably an element of madness he had to account for.

Hands slid around his waist, and a warm body pressed against his back. “Yuur-ri.” Victor rested his chin on Yuuri’s ear. “Let me spend the day with you. I want to go ice skating again. Sara wants to watch you. The girls want to spoil you.” He ran fingers down Yuuri’s arm. “ _I_ want to spoil you.”

It was like resisting ocean tide. “I’ve been spoiled more than enough.” Yet even as he said this, Yuuri eased deeper into Victor’s embrace.

Victor nuzzled Yuuri’s earlobe, a soft teasing that hypnotized Yuuri. “We’ll strike a bargain. You’ll go over your notes on the way to the rink, and if you have questions, I’ll answer them. Then you’ll skate, and then we’ll go shopping. I’ll make sure Mila knows she’s to come ready to talk about the business.”

Clearly there was no getting out of this. And honestly, Yuuri didn’t want to escape. He sighed. “Very well.”

An hour later, the two of them were in the car, driving out to the rink once more. Yuuri absolutely brought his folder of notes, and he had them on his lap and spread across the dash. He grilled Victor with questions the entire way.

“Rostelecom is an investment company. You acquire land and projects around the world, sometimes developing them, sometimes selling them.”

“That’s correct,” Victor agreed.

“How do you decide when to do each?”

“Hmm. That’s more a question for Mila. There’s likely money involved somehow, but I suspect there’s more to it also.” Victor glanced over at Yuuri’s binder as he switched lanes. “What else do you have to ask me?”

“I did wonder what projects you were involved in, and which ones you thought I might be asked to help in, if I accepted a position with Rostelecom.”

“In the past, I went to Japan often, as we had several clients there, but then we sold those interests, so my focus returned to Europe. With so much growth in Asia, though, we’re often at a loss because we don’t have a translator on our team who speaks Mandarin or Malay. We get by with English, but it’s clear we could do better if we knew the native language as well.”

“I know Mandarin, Japanese, Thai, and English. English is my worst.”

“Oh? Well.” Victor’s smile brightened. “Then you’d be an incredible asset, if you could help us negotiate in Asia.”

Yuuri shuddered. “I could _translate_ for you. I couldn’t negotiate anything.” He glanced at Victor. “Is that what you do? Do you negotiate with potential clients?”

“Sometimes. They’d like me to do that more than I currently do. I’m good at it, better than I’d like. It isn’t what I want to do, though, so I end up avoiding everyone until something has gone critical, and then I go do what I can to keep things from becoming a giant mess.”

“What is it you’d like to do, if you don’t want to negotiate with clients?”

“Ah, Yuuri, I don’t know. Today, I want to be with you, and happily, that’s what I get to do.”

Yuuri continued to ask Victor questions about his notes, but Victor didn’t have many more answers than that. Either he was deliberately being cagey, or he knew that little about his own family’s company. Yuuri doubted it was the latter, since he’d managed to learn far more than it Victor professed to understand by simply asking questions in the off-season and then applying himself once he gave up his coaching plans. 

“If you’re not going to help me prepare, then take me somewhere with WiFi, please.” He scowled at his notes and pushed his glasses higher onto his nose.

“But I _am_ helping. I admit, you’re asking questions I don’t know the answers to, but as soon as we’re stopped, I’ll look all of them up.”

“How can you not know these answers? They’re the most basic questions about your company’s holdings.”

“Not _my_ company. And I don’t retain that kind of information. I learn what I need to know about specific aspects of a problem, go in and fix it, then leave.”

Yuuri cast a sideways glance at him. “I see.” Victor was fickle. Yuuri tried not to feel disappointed.

“I don’t think I like that tone.” Victor sighed. “I’ll have to prove myself to you, I can see. I suppose at the very least, my grandfather is going to love you.”

“Why is that?”

Victor said nothing more, only smiled—though Yuuri felt the smile was a little too bright. “We’re here. And look, there’s Michele, come to greet us.”

Michele was indeed outside the building that housed the rink, standing on top of the stairs with his hands in his pockets. He descended the stairs as they exited Victor’s car and extended his hand, first to Victor, then to Yuuri. 

“Good to see you again. Sara’s inside, finishing her practice.” Michele gave Yuuri a meaningful look. “She’s hoping to see you skate today.”

Yuuri nodded, trying not to let on how nervous that made him. He had to work hard to understand Michele with his accent, but English was getting easier and easier. “I hope she is not disappointed.”

“I don’t think you understand what a hero you are to Sara. You’re one of the biggest reasons she started skating. She got in a fight with her tutor because she wanted to learn Japanese because she hoped to meet you one day and tell you how much you meant to her. She only relented when we convinced her you likely knew English as well.”

Ironically, Victor had to translate this for Yuuri, as it got too complicated, especially with Michele’s accent, and by the end, Yuuri was blushing. “My English is bad, but I’m trying.” He didn’t know how to respond to the rest, so he simply bowed and said, “Thank you.”

Victor put an arm around Yuuri. “Let’s go find Sara so you can skate with her.”

Sara was indeed on the ice, working with her coach, but when she saw Yuuri she waved eagerly. She continued to skate and work on her jumps, but she kept glancing Yuuri’s way as he stretched and put on his skates, until finally her coach gave up and called a break so Sara could come say hello.

Yuuri’s instinct was to scold her for abandoning her practice, but he could hardly do such a thing when she was lending him her rink and her brother had told him how she idolized him. Yuuri still didn’t know how he felt about that, but he couldn’t help but be moved, especially as Sara skated toward him with stars in her eyes.

“Yuuri! Are you going to skate with me today?”

“Yes, thank you.” Making eye contact with her coach, Yuuri bowed. “Hello. I’m Yuuri Katsuki. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The woman inclined her head back at him, and she looked as starstruck as Sara. “I’m well-aware of who you are. It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Katsuki. I’m Karen Stapinski, Ms. Crispino’s coach.” She indicated the ice with her hand. “Please, come join us.”

Yuuri stepped onto the ice. As it had the day before, the feel of it eased him, the familiar sensation moving something deep within him and setting old feelings free, both good and bad. The emotions were less intense today—it was a little closer to simply skating, which was a relief. He was distracted, too, by the presence of Sara and her coach. They gave him his space as he warmed up, but Sara kept skating near him, asking how he liked the rink, was he enjoying New York, how had he liked her routine, and did he have any pointers for her.

That was how it started.

He hadn’t meant to say much. In fact, it was difficult, since he didn’t know all of the words in English. He knew the important ones, though, and when that failed, he could give demonstrations. Somehow he ended up giving a lesson without meaning to.

When he apologized to Stapinski for intruding on her coaching however, she only laughed and held up her hands. “No, no. By all means, continue. You’re getting further with her in an hour than I have in six months. If I could convince you to come out here every day until the season starts, she might have a shot at the Grand Prix Final this season.”

Yuuri didn’t understand all of what the coach said, but it was clear she didn’t mind that he had taken over her student, so he continued. It was strange. He’d felt so uncomfortable coaching in Japan, but he enjoyed helping Sara. It made him wonder if he shouldn’t have stuck with it after all. He was still thinking about it when he stepped off the ice to take a break, and as he slipped on his guards, Victor came to greet him with a sports drink and a smile which was much more relaxed than the strained one he’d given Yuuri when he hadn’t wanted to talk about Rostelecom any longer.

“You were wonderful, Yuuri. Now I wish I were younger so I could hire you to be my coach.”

“I’ll still give you lessons.” Yuuri draped a towel around his neck and tipped the sports drink to his mouth, stopping when he saw the Crispino siblings arguing heatedly on the other side of the rest area. “What’s wrong?”

Victor looked amused. “I don’t speak more than a few phrases in Italian, but knowing Sara and from reading the body language, my guess is that Sara wants to ask you to be her assistant coach for the rest of the season, and Michele is telling her no.”

“ _Eh?_ ” Yuuri drew back, stumbling into the rink wall. “But I couldn’t do that.”

“Why couldn’t you? You’re under no obligation to Rostelecom. You looked as if you were having fun out there. Perhaps you should consider it.”

Yuuri regarded Victor as if he’d grown an extra head. “I _do_ have obligations to your company. I said I would consider employment there seriously, and I will.” 

“All I’m saying is that perhaps you should consider this seriously as well. Ah, here comes Sara. Michele has stormed off furious. Looks as if he lost.”

Yuuri greeted Sara warmly, but he was so confused. Why was Victor acting as if this were nothing more than a whim, his interview? Was this some kind of ploy? It didn’t seem like Victor to do such a thing, but Yuuri couldn’t imagine why else Victor would behave this way. He wanted to press the issue, but of course he couldn’t with Sara around, so he simply smiled and thanked Sara for the opportunity to skate with her, insisting teaching her was his pleasure.

He worried Victor was right and Sara would ask him to coach her, but she only invited the two of them to lunch. “Mila will meet us there, and we can go shopping. Is it all right if I ride with you? She’ll take me home afterward.”

Victor said of course that was all right, and once Yuuri and Sara had freshened up and changed, they were off, back into the city. Sara chatted the entire way, telling Yuuri about her programs, asking him about jump configurations and step sequences. Victor had to translate often, but several times he didn’t know the Japanese term for a figure skating term so they had to muddle through. They managed, though, and Yuuri couldn’t help liking Sara a great deal.

“I want to final in the Grand Prix Final this year,” she told him. “It’s in Tokyo.”

Despite Yuuri’s efforts to ignore the sport, he was well aware of the location of the GPF. “Good luck to you.”

“Thank you. The competition is intense, but with this program, I think I have a chance. I just have to keep practicing.”

“Make sure you mind your form, and if you have an injury, rest it. If you push yourself, you’ll make it worse.”

She nodded. “I want to make my triple axel as good as yours. I miss the rotations a lot, though, and my form isn’t as strong as it should be. I need to keep practicing. What you showed me today helped so much. Thank you. I wish I could ask you to help me more.”

Oh, here it was. Yuuri couldn’t help glancing at Victor, whose mouth had curled into a knowing smile. “When I am able, I’m happy to assist you. Right now my focus needs to be on my duty to my family’s business interests.”

“Yes, I know.” She sighed. “If you ever do go into coaching, though, would you let me know? I’d like to hire you right away.”

Why did that comment make Yuuri feel so lightheaded? “Of course.”

Sara bounced on her seat. “Thank you, Yuuri!”

Mila was waiting for them outside of the restaurant, and as the valet took Victor’s car away, Mila embraced Sara and kissed her on the cheek. “Sweetheart, I’ve missed you. Why do you work so much?”

Sara kissed her back and punched Mila lightly on the arm. “Why do _you_ work so much?” Linking arms with her girlfriend, Sara indicated Yuuri. “Darling, have you met Yuuri Katsuki? He’s a famous skater, you know.”

“I do know, and he’s quite the pole dancer as well.” Mila held out her hand to Yuuri with a wicked smile. “Mila Babicheva. We met at the party your first night in the States, but I’m not sure if you remember.”

Yuuri’s cheeks stained crimson as he accepted Mila’s handshake. “A little. My apologies for my behavior that time.”

Mila laughed. “No apologies! You were charming. Now, come in to lunch and charm me some more.”

Yuuri was decidedly _not_ charming at first, too self-conscious to be anything else, but Mila and Sara kept smiling at him, encouraging him, and he couldn’t help but relax. 

“You should see him on the ice, Mila,” Sara said, with a hand on her girlfriend’s arm. “He practically floats. He taught me so many things in just this one morning. I wish I could keep him forever.”

Mila smiled fondly at Sara, but she winked at Yuuri. “My grandfather would like to keep him, though, darling. So, Yuuri, speaking of work. I hear you’re giving the old men quite the runaround with your demands. Good for you. I think you should keep it up. Victor tells me you have questions for me, though. Is there anything you’d like to know?”

Before Yuuri could open his mouth, Victor slid a piece of paper onto his placemat. “By the way, here are the answers to the queries you had before,” he said in Japanese. “Though feel free to ask Mila for follow-ups. As I said, she’ll know more about all of this than I do.”

Yuuri had almost forgotten that Victor had promised to look up information for him while he skated. Yuuri stared down at the notes, too surprised to speak at first. “I—thank you,” he said in English.

Victor rubbed the back of Yuuri’s neck, then kept his hand on Yuuri’s shoulder as Yuuri read over the notes and began to as Mila his questions.

Mila _did_ know far more than Victor, and she happily shared every detail, far more than Yuuri expected her to. Several times Victor asked questions as well, to the degree that Yuuri began to believe that yes, Victor truly _hadn’t_ been lying to him. He honestly didn’t know that much about Rostelecom. When the ladies disappeared together to go to the toilet, Yuuri turned to Victor and said as much.

Their food had arrived at that point, and Victor wiped his mouth with his napkin before responding, though he also kept his gaze averted. “I told you. I don’t truly want to be involved in the business. I try to keep myself as distanced as I can.”

“But yet you don’t leave? Why not?”

Yuuri knew it was too personal a question even before he asked it and Victor closed off. It wasn’t like him to push like that, either. He wasn’t sure why he had. He took a drink of his wine and tried to regroup.

Perhaps he owed Victor more stories about himself, first.

“Forgive me for pressing you. I think I’m so frustrated because you have a place for you and you’re so clearly good at it, and I’m jealous because I don’t have such a thing for myself.”

This did make Victor relax, and unsurprisingly, he came to Yuuri’s defense. “You truly were wonderful with Sara. And with Chris. You’ve put so much effort into learning about Rostelecom, and I can tell you’ve impressed Mila. She’s going to help you in whatever you need now. You have so many strengths, Yuuri.”

Yuuri shook his head. “I was a terrible coach when I tried to take on students in Japan. I think I was helpful to Sara today because it didn’t matter, it was your friend in a far away ice rink with no stakes. If I knew I would have to take someone to the same tournaments I’d competed in, if I knew I’d walk into the areas and hear people call my name, I think it would be entirely different. There are still too many memories.”

It was the most he’d ever spoken about the accident. It made him feel queasy, but relieved as well.

Victor took his hand under the table. “Is it that you’re upset over what you’ve lost?”

Yuuri shook his head, shutting his eyes and focusing entirely on the feel of Victor’s long, cool fingers against his own. “It’s that I know I’ve let so many people down,” he whispered. He’d never said _that_ out loud at all, had barely allowed himself to think it. He drew a shuddering breath. “I can’t ever give them what they want, not any longer. So I want to give my family what they want. My father’s company. I feel as if I’ve lost…”

Yuuri couldn’t say anything more, could barely breathe.

_My honor. I feel as if I’ve lost my honor._

“So I’m not the only one at a loss to know what it is he wants for himself, and so ends up doing what others want instead. You give me hope, Yuuri.” Victor let go of Yuuri’s hand, but it was only to claim it with his other so he could wrap and arm around Yuuri’s shoulders and lean in to whisper in Yurui’s ear. “Let’s discover our dreams and seek them out together. Please?”

The plea was enough to penetrate Yuuri’s heart, but the brush of Victor’s lips on the sensitive skin behind his earlobe made Yuuri want to sag into Victor’s arms. Before he could so much as complete the thought, though, Victor squeezed his hand in a manner that made Yuuri open his eyes, and he saw Mila and Sara approaching their table once more.

Mila glanced between them, or at the lack of space between them more like, and grinned wider. “Are the two of you ready to go shopping? Because I’m in a mood to _buy_ things, Yuuri, darling.”

Giving in and leaning into Victor, Yuuri smiled at her. “Yes. I’m ready to go.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I've missed this fic.
> 
> Well, as usual I thought this was going to go one place and it ended up in another, so I guess I'm still me. It's my plan to update this more regularly for a bit--can't give you a schedule, alas, but the next week or so looks good because I'm waiting for/processing edits, proofs, and files on day job books which means I can't work on the contract day job book for a publisher (other three are indie) that I need to start soon. All this said, I'm no longer as on fire as I was and should be able to update this sooner than the three months between installments or whatever it was I've been doing lately. Which I'm so excited about. I really, really miss this story and have had so much fun working on this the last two days!
> 
> I think I know the end now, maybe. Not sure. Once a pantser, alway a pantser. We'll discover it together.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it! In the meantime, you can catch me on Tumblr as cullinankatsudon and on Twitter as heidicullinan. Otherwise I'm running around the world as Heidi Cullinan in general and if you Google me you WILL trip over me, so there's that. If you want YOI, though, you want me on Tumblr. That is where the party is at.
> 
> Speaking of, I am going to do a rewatch again starting tomorrow or later today and nobody is going to stop me goddammit.
> 
> (Oh, and this continues to be raw and unedited, sorry. I reread the whole thing to catch myself up and cringed a lot, deciding my editor and proofer shall NEVER read this, ever, lest they send me to a corner.)


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